


Blood-Red Wounds and Rosy Cheeks

by SilentWaves



Series: Waves' Dr. STONE Week 2020 [5]
Category: Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Day 5 - Reactions, Day 5 - Scars, Day 5 - Soulmates, Dr STONE Week 2020, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Reconciliation, Sort Of, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, also sort of, but not just soulmates it happens with everyone significant, he does learn healthier ways to self-regulate though, it's like. one-sided enemyship from Tsukasa for a bit, listen I fully believe that tsukasa is a very angry person who just hides it well, omfg the end got so fluffy… like… tooth-rotting fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWaves/pseuds/SilentWaves
Summary: If someone is destined to make an impression on another’s life, a marking will appear on their skin during their first meeting. For some, it’s a lovely birthmark or an intricate tattoo, and for others, they’ll walk away with deep scars. But if you look close enough, the scars don’t look like wounds at all.The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.— Carl Jung
Relationships: Nanami Ryuusui & Shishiou Tsukasa, Nanami Ryuusui/Shishiou Tsukasa, Ogawa Yuzuriha/Ooki Taiju (Mentioned)
Series: Waves' Dr. STONE Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806610
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45
Collections: Dr. Stone Week 2020





	Blood-Red Wounds and Rosy Cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> Ok yeah so soft RyuKasa is INCREDIBLY valid but I also feel like they need to go through a rocky journey to get there. Listen,, Tsukasa was straight up willing to kill to achieve his ideals… I really don't think he'd switch his opinion as fast as he did in canon, and I wanted to write something to show a more gradual growth.
> 
> That being said, I 110% agree that any Established Relationship RyuKasa should be of the UTMOST softness and if I ever write it I definitely want to express that. 
> 
> also...my original estimated word count for this was 8 000 to 10 000 words...

Tsukasa was going to murder someone. Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

He honors life, he really does, even the ones of shitty capitalist scum. He does, really. At the very least, he has his sister back now, and he can live with that. There’s no use getting hung up over problems of the modern-world, he tells himself. He tells it to himself over and over and over again in hopes of maybe believing it.

But unfortunately, Tsukasa isn’t any kind of saint. Nobody would think otherwise, as anyone who just started and lost a war in the recent past isn't exactly exactly the most peaceful person around.

So when he hears that while he was basically _dead_ which, fuck, he’s not entirely over that either. Oh well, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it, which is probably going to be in the middle of the night and will last until early morning, but it doesn't change the fact that Senku revived some kind of economist piece of shit while Tsukasa was very much frozen and unconscious?

He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t happy about this at all.

 _Maybe he’s different. Maybe there’s more to it. Maybe… Maybe…_ and Tsukasa had no hope of convincing himself, because when had there ever been a good person who just happened to be obsessed with money? Never. That’s never been a thing.

“Are you ok, Tsu?” Mirai asks, in her sweet voice that somehow didn’t sound scratchy from her years in a coma (and subsequent millennia encased in rock). She was currently braiding Tsukasa’s hair, which he had grown out specifically for that purpose. “You’re all tense.” She notes.

Tsukasa laughs. He could always trust his sister to calm him down. Or, at the very least, temporarily forget about his dilemmas for a bit, “How could you tell? Are they putting you through some kind of special warrior’s training? Did Gen teach you body language?”

“No,” Mirai tied off the piece that she was currently working on. “You’re just quiet.”

“Hmm,” Tsukasa didn’t know how he could explain his current plight without having to teach Mirai about the existence of capitalism. “Well, I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed at the fact that you’re here.” And it wasn’t a complete lie. Tsukasa managed to wake up before the sun every morning, even on nights when he barely got any sleep, because it meant that he wouldn’t be missing a single moment of finally seeing Mirai smiling and about. 

“Was it… a long time?” Mirai starts fiddling her thumbs, looking nervous. “I don’t remember anything, but you look a lot older now, and—” Tsukasa cuts her off with a comforting hug, which Mirai leans into and wraps her arms around Tsukasa's neck in return. 

“No need to worry about that. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” He reassures her. 

Neither one of them had seen a marking quite as large or as colourful as the butterflies scattered across Tsukasa’s torso, which appeared the second Tsukasa held Mirai for the first time since she was born. Mirai has a single butterfly over her heart to match. The bright colours had comforted Tsukasa in the worst of times, and it does its job just as effectively now. Ever since Mirai woke up again, his butterfly marking finally started dancing again. 

Tsukasa rests his head against Mirai's shoulder, and Mirai makes herself comfortable as well to continue her braiding. Tsukasa, at that moment, thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind having a capitalist piece of shit in Senku’s kingdom, because he’ll still have his sister, his lovely darling sister who is finally awake and alive and uninjured and safe and well. And really…

And _really_.

But wasn’t it the fault of their stupid corrupt capitalist society that caused her so much pain in the first place? Wasn’t it only through Tsukasa’s literal blood, sweat, and tears that her life support was in place for that long? The old people of their world were so selfish, greedy, power-hungry (etc.) that, hell, Tsukasa couldn’t even pick shells off of the goddamn public beach without getting beaten to a pulp (at least, that was from his long-ago past. If something similar happened today, it would probably be the other guy who got sent to the hospital).

And Senku had the audacity to revive the worst one of them all.

Tsukasa had yet to meet him, because he’s already near certain that their first meeting would create the ugliest scars he’s ever seen, and he's not exactly excited to have a _capitalist's_ mark on his skin because he doesn’t want to live with the mark from the scum of society on his body for the rest of his life. The sentiment is petty, he knows. And he also knows that he’s stubborn about his views, but he’s not planning on changing shit, not for himself, not for Senku (no matter how much Tsukasa respects him now), and certainly not for some good-for-nothing modern equivalent of a slave owner.

Tsukasa scowls, and he hopes that Senku will find some way to resolve everything. Ever since he teamed up with the Kingdom of Science, Senku’s been a force to reckon with. Well, that’s not true. He’s always been a force to reckon with (case in point: Tsukasa’s aforementioned loss in the recent war). But he didn’t realize just how easy it was for Senku to get people on his side, even if they didn’t want to at first, until he became another victim to the charms of science. Senku finds some way to spin the situation to make it favourable to whoever he needs, because he knows the science required to fix whatever needed fixing. This, Tsukasa thinks, is probably one of the many consequences of Senku and Gen becoming friends, what with the subtle yet undeniable manipulation using one’s desires, and yet even knowing that it’s still impossible to reject the offer. Regardless, it meant that Tsukasa was going to have to face the money-hungry piece of garbage someday… for Senku’s sake. And for the Kingdom’s sake. He was going to have to learn his name, and shake his hand, and maybe (and he shudders at the thought) even go on missions with him.

“Um, Tsu?” Mirai asks. “You’re hugging a bit too tightly.”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, my bad,” Tsukasa didn’t feel anything creak, but figures that he should take more care with his strength from now on. He refuses to be the cause of Mirai going back to the hospital after she basically just got out, and only vaguely registers that he really did change a lot since Mirai last saw him. “Are you bruised anywhere?”

“Nope, but you should save your strength for fighting lions,” Mirai pouts. “I’m not strong like you yet!”

He ruffles her hair, “and hopefully, you’ll never need to be.”

Tsukasa left her to keep playing with Suika, and he made his way over to Senku’s observatory. He was practically always there, so it wasn’t a problem whenever someone needed to find him.

And he needed to have a very important discussion regarding his decisions.

It’s not that Tsukasa didn’t trust Senku’s judgement — apparently the scumbag he revived was also needed for other stuff, obviously, why else would Senku revive someone like that — but maybe Senku was somehow just a tad _too_ exposed to alcohol when he made the decision? Could someone even get drunk without consuming it? Tsukasa didn’t know, because he wasn’t the science guy. But that was irrelevant, because the decision was made and the petrification, undone. 

“Senku?” Tsukasa calls before entering the observatory. Senku made a sound of encouragement, and Tsukasa entered the room to see his friend watching the stars.

“Is anything hurting? I didn’t mention, but the device is kinda running low on battery, so maybe it lowered its effectiveness?” Senku made a vague hand motion, probably assuming that Tsukasa would know what it meant. He didn’t, but figured there was no point in asking. Senku saw him as the calm and cool fighter, so that’s what he’ll be. It’s very humbling, actually, not being the ‘strongest’ in the strictest sense of the word, but just following instructions and seeing something bigger than himself come together with help from his efforts. Senku doesn’t stop the weird flapping motion of his hand, and when he pointedly turns his head and looks to the ground, Tsukasa realizes that Senku wanted Tsukasa to lay down with him and watch the stars. 

“No,” Tsukasa answers. “Nothing’s hurting.” They laid there in silence for a bit since Tsukasa was unsure how to bring up the topic that he wanted to discuss. It was peaceful, and warm, and Tsukasa wasn’t going to mention how he had frostbite on like four of his toes and laying down in something that wasn’t a fridge is something that he’ll never take advantage of again. Finally, after a few shooting stars passed by, he spoke up. “The sky is beautiful. How are you going to stargaze when the world’s filled up with pollution again?”

Senku moved in Tsukasa’s peripheral in what’s probably a shrugging motion. “I don’t think that’s a concern for now.”

“I know how obsessively you think of the long-term, so don’t pull that excuse on me,” Tsukasa says calmly, “You didn’t think that everyone was going to switch to energy-efficient sources, did you?”

“Can’t a guy hope?” Senku sighs. “No, you’re right. There’s no shortage of oil at this point, and there’s no reason for most people to care about the Earth even after they’ve revived.”

Tsukasa turns his head to look pointedly at Senku, and sits up because the angle was awkward. Senku sits up with him. Tsukasa thinks about it a bit, “I mean, we’re not reviving all seven billion people right now, but now that I know it’s the plan for the near future… I’d like to know what you think.”

“Hmm.” Senku smiles, and Tsukasa could practically see the Science Switch in his brain turn to ‘ON’. “I’m glad you’re more involved in the Kingdom of Science now, even though it’s just been a day since we revived you.”

That reminds him, he should probably get some kind of revenge on Hyouga (who wasn’t locked up for some reason??), but in a way that doesn’t seem petty. He doesn’t want to lose respect by being perceived as the grade-school jerk who beat up on others who were weaker than him because they damaged his pride. But he also didn’t want to look like a pushover who just _let_ someone try to kill him. He supposes that he had a right to be petty, since the guy pushed his spear right through Tsukasa’s torso while aiming for his sister’s, which, well, he probably should’ve seen coming when that marking showed up during their first meeting, but it was irrelevant now. Tsukasa learned early on in the ring that emotions shouldn’t be shown, and he’s followed that pretty well throughout his life. That last time with Mirai… that was a weakness, and he paid for it. Tsukasa decides that he’ll probably get his chance in the future, especially if Hyouga still bore the same grudges, but he won’t be exposing any more weaknesses anytime soon.

He must have gone silent in thought, because Senku spoke up again. “And I know you’ll probably have a hard time adjusting, no, don’t start on the statues, I really don’t care,” Tsukasa opens his mouth to interject, because Senku was wrong, and he killed people who deserved to live just as much as he does, even if they’re trash. It doesn’t change the fact that he allowed himself to get drunk on power — _drunk on power_ — how different did that make him from the rich bastards that he hated so much? Senku interjects his train of thought by raising his hand. “Nope, nope. I’m serious. I can see the wheels turning in your brain. Don’t start.” He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and thinking of how to express the sentiment fully. “It’s not that your concerns aren’t, ah, valid. It’s just that Yuzuriha already fixed all of those statues, and you’ve finally come down from that frenzied killing period, so I really don’t have anything against you right now. I don’t think you should have anything against yourself either.”

“I… killed, Senku.” Tsukasa says, his voice just a hint shaky. Senku probably didn’t notice though. Gen would have, probably, but Senku’s no mentalist. “They’ll be fine, but I still killed them. I was…” he didn’t want to admit it, but he should anyways. Owning up to his mistakes, and all that, “I… did it because I _could._ They were statues, I wasn’t. They reminded me of a past that I don’t like thinking of, and I killed them for such a selfish reason.”

Senku shrugs, “You’re not wrong. About it being selfish, that is.” But his expression had an unspoken _so what_ to it. 

“Just like Hyouga didn’t need to harm…” He gulps, hopefully discreetly enough for Senku to not notice, “…harm Mirai as soon as he got the chance, and just like those rich people didn’t need to exploit everyone else in the old world.”

“Yeah.” Senku crosses his arms, getting comfortable to listen to Tsukasa’s whole story now that they weren’t in public and weren’t busy gathering preparations. 

“I’ve been the strongest — physically — ever since I was 14.” Tsukasa admits. “That was when I started making a name for myself, and when I could finally start paying off the debts that had accumulated. I’ve been the strongest since then, and yet I never took advantage of it,” Tsukasa looks down at his hands. He’s surprised that they look so clean. “I didn’t take advantage of anything or anyone, because that would mean I would be doing exactly what everyone else was.”

“Until the stone age,” Senku states. He has no malice, no attack behind his words, yet Tsukasa winces anyways.

“Yeah. That’s pretty cowardly of me, right?” He chuckles darkly. “It’s only when they were totally helpless that I allowed my emotions to control me.”

Senku shrugs again, “Sorry if this comes across as insensitive, but I really still don’t care.” Tsukasa stares at him, waiting for an explanation. Senku continues, “I mean, you’re back to normal now, you’re not obsessed with any ‘purity’ or shit like that. It’s fine, you’ve learned. If there’s anything to gain from science, is that mistakes are valuable.”

“My killing dozens of people was valuable.” Tsukasa says cynically.

“No, obviously not,” Senku snorts. “But your willingness to join us peacefully is, and that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t get over your dumb power tirade first. I got Yuzu to piece everyone back together because I knew you’d freak out when you finally calmed down — ha, that’s kinda contradictory, isn’t it? — and yet here we are, with you still freaking out even though there’s no permanent damage.” Tsukasa prepares to raise an objection, but Senku rushes to correct himself first. “Well not. Not that it’s a bad thing to feel guilty about _murder._ I just think that you should focus on the future rather than your past.”

“Such a poet,” Tsukasa scoffs. “But you’ve got a point. I see it. It might take me… a while. To fully move on. But I’ll help in any way I can, and I know you’ll see my contributions as important.”

Senku grins. ”Yeah, actually, because you’re my late-teen-to-young-adulthood-childhood-friend. And also, because you’re going to help us defeat Why-Man.”

Tsukasa couldn’t help himself, he let out a small chuckle. “Late-teens-to-young-adulthood-childhood-friend, huh? That’s a horrible title, I love it,” He smiles back. “Much better than ‘The Strongest Primate High-Schooler’. It makes me sound like a monkey.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a brat about public image,” Senku teases, sensing that Tsukasa’s mood was good enough again to be making light jokes. “Maybe Gen was onto something with the war paint.”

Tsukasa makes a dismissive waving motion with one hand while he wipes the slightly-smudged war paint off his face with the other. He’d have to wipe it off before sleeping anyways, or it’ll probably itch like hell when he wakes up again. “I don’t mind. I just think that it’s weird whenever Minami goes around using my title from 3000 years ago instead of my name.”

“Oh, that reminds me. We should introduce you to all the new people. Minami updates you on everything, right? Have you heard about treasure island?” Senku begins talking, and ugh, Tsukasa can’t believe himself. He somehow forgot about his original goal to ask Senku why the needed a capitalist pig, of all things, and got caught up in Senku’s rhythm again. 

“So.” Tsukasa knows that he interrupted Senku in the middle of his story, which was rude. But he needed an answer, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it if he lets Senku continue with his meaningful rambling. Senku _hmm_ s to signify that he’s listening, and looks intently. Tsukasa clears his throat. “These new people… I’ve heard that one of them likes money.”

Senku frowns. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh. I didn’t know that you’d find out so fast. I didn’t think that Minami would tell you.”

“She didn’t.”

“Then who?”

“I overheard some of your villagers talking about Dragos and purchases. Doesn’t take a genius, now does it?” Tsukasa doesn’t mention that a bit of glaring and implied threats were involved. Nobody was hurt, so Senku didn’t need to know.

Senku sighs. “Yeah, sorry. I was meaning to explain that.”

“I know you probably have him for an important reason. But why him specifically?” Tsukasa is very proud of himself for maintaining his cool this well. 

“He’s our boat captain, so yeah, very important.” Senku rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger. “I think that you’ll find him to be very different from the people from the old world, but I don’t expect you to understand unless you come to the conclusion for yourself.” He glances down at his right forearm. On it, parallel to his friendship markings from Taiju and Yuzuriha, was another similar band. 

When they first met, they could tell that they’d make a large impact on each others’ life even before they high-fived. As soon as their skin touched, matching clusters of yellow roses appeared, with vines intertwining to form a band that wrapped around their wrists. At the time, it was more thorn than flower, and it was probably what made Senku so suspicious of Tsukasa. The colours were faded, more piss-yellow than anything appealing, and the thorns looked so threatening Tsukasa almost thought that they’d poke him whenever he touched the tattoo. 

But now, looking at their markings now, the thorns were barely visible at all. Now, they looked like bracelets that Suika or Mirai would have made for them from fresh-picked flowers the colour of sunshine and warm meadows. It was proof, to them at least, they their friendship has become something more solid. Something less threatening, but instead soft and reassuring. Senku had told Tsukasa earlier that day that the blooms had cheered him up whenever he worried over Tsukasa in his cold sleep. They were on the same side now, and they would need to start acting like it.

“Trust me,” Senku says meaningfully, glancing at the flowers. “I’m not asking you to abandon your values, but I hope you can keep an open mind when you meet him.”

Tsukasa thinks about this. There was really no arguing with Senku, was there? He was a fool for ever thinking he could win against an enigma like the guy in front of him. Senku was one of those people who someone could just wholeheartedly believe in, and it was high time he admitted it. He exhales, long and unsure. “I trust you. No promises though.” 

“Great, I’ll formally introduce you tomorrow!” Senku says as he waves Tsukasa out of the observatory and lays back down to look at the stars for a bit longer.

Tsukasa could trust Senku’s judgement, he supposes, but that didn’t make him dread the coming meeting any less.

He woke up the next morning, before the sun as per usual, and he leaves his hut to find an unfamiliar face. _Senku probably told him to come meet me,_ he figures. 

Tsukasa stifles a groan. The guy even _looks_ like a piece of shit. Attractive in all the worst ways. 

Tsukasa could spot treated and pampered skin from a mile away, and his hair was clearly used to a constant stream of the highest quality shampoo and conditioner, and, ok, his tan seems natural, but he was supposedly a marine expert, so he’d be nothing short of a scam if it wasn’t. Tsukasa sighs. He’s talked to rich fuckboys before, in interviews and the like, and he hasn’t had any problems with them yet (he still shivers the idea of how much those lawsuits might cost). But there were no more lawsuits now, and the only gun-wielder was terrified of him… and he wasn’t going to do anything. Because he trusts Senku. And he trusts himself not to go crazy with power again.

He traces one of the butterflies scattered across his torso in a practiced ritual, and exhales, steadying himself.

“Shishio Tsukasa.” He holds out his hand, “Just Tsukasa is fine.” He tries to say that it’s nice to meet him. He opens his mouth, and no sound comes out. He tries again, and gives up before the other person thinks that he’s some kind of idiot.

“Nanami Ryusui!” He smiles. _Hell, even his name sounds pretentions. And, wait, Nanami? Wasn’t that some bigshot family?_ Tsukasa thinks. Ryusui continues. ”Good to have another strong person joining the crew!” He shakes Tsukasa’s hand, and Tsukasa doubles over from the pain.

From their point of contact, a splintering _crack_ spread up Tsukasa’s arm, tendrils of dark bruising spreading so quickly and painfully that he was surprised no blood was drawn. He doesn’t cry out, and he keeps his expression steady. It almost felt worse than the scar that Hyouga left behind, but not quite. He could deal with it. He’s still doubled over, but he doesn’t break eye contact and he doesn’t let go first.

From somewhere behind him (at 7 o’clock, Tsukasa guesses), he hears Minami gasp. Ryusui also lets out a strangled gurgle, but it was one that was more of surprise than pain. Tsukasa focused his vision to see that Ryusui was just left with a single scratch, no deeper than a kitten’s claw, across the palm of his hand.

Tsukasa nearly saw red.

Here he was, the scarring so branched out it started looking like string, and doubled over from the pain that was spreading up his arm. This _Nanami Ryusui_ would have such a large impact on him, fated to do something on par with Hyouga’s spear through his stomach. And yet. And _yet_ , Tsukasa himself would have about as much impact as a _scatch_?

He nearly lunges at Ryusui, but the sudden shock of the pain fading away snaps him out of it. No, he should trust Senku. The man standing in front of him barely reached his shoulder, and the muscle that he had was clearly made for lifting weights and steering ships, not for fighting. Tsukasa could take him down any day he wanted, and they both knew that.

Finally, Ryusui speaks up after Tsukasa recovers. “Woah, I’ve never given anyone a marking that bad before. Are…” he reaches out his hand, because it was only the first contact that could create the marking. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Tsukasa says, though he doesn’t so much as say it as he does spit it, teeth gritted and fists clenched. _Did he_ look _fine?_ He mentally rants, but wouldn’t say anything out loud. He wouldn’t show that the stupid spoiled rich boy had gotten to him. He pretends to be absolutely, totally unbothered. Taking a deep breath, he grabs Ryusui’s hand and stands up, though he could have fully done it on his own.

“Tsukasa!” Minami shouts, running over. “I’m _so_ sorry! I should’ve warned you about him, I’m such an idiot, I thought…” Tsukasa interrupts her by putting a hand on her shoulder. She clearly couldn’t tear her eyes away from the newly-formed scar on Tsukasa’s arm, but Tsukasa wasn’t going to show any weakness by assessing the damage. 

“Don’t worry about it, Minami.” He raises his head, subtly telling the growing crowd of on-lookers to move on. “We’ve got work to do, right? Don’t want to miss the growing season in America, and we’re wasting time on trivialities.” Well. Tsukasa didn’t think of the scar (or what he can see of it in his peripheral anyways) was anything _trivial_ , but he wasn’t going to give Ryusui any more power than he’s already achieved from the mark he left.

Ryusui makes another strangled sound, like he was thinking of apologizing again, or, Tsukasa thinks, probably going to bribe him into feeling better by paying him off. He walks faster, Minami now stumbling a bit to keep up.

He walks over to Senku, who’s in the middle of telling Chrome about world travel while gesturing to the large globe that the handicrafts team made the night before. “Senku.” He says, quietly enough to not seem threatening but loudly enough for them to hear.

Chrome yelps as he sees Tsukasa. Senku makes a few more notes before turning to him. “Hmm? Is there someth—oh, _shit_! What happened to your arm?” Senku leans forward, as though looking for blood. There isn’t any. “No way. This isn’t…?” He looks up at Tsukasa, not quite scared, because Senku had never once been scared of Tsukasa, but definitely concerned.

“It is.” Tsukasa doesn’t even want to think about what it actually looks like, and isn’t looking forward to when he’s alone and forced to actually study it. “I’m here to ask about work. We’re departing soon, right?”

“We, uh, yeah.” Senku clears his throat, realizing not to push the subject further. Tsukasa smiles in response, _He catches on fast,_ Tsukasa thinks as Senku looks back down at his notes. “You can help bring in more supplies. We’re only about 58% stocked right now because Hyouga and Homura are busy convincing Kohaku not to lock him up again.”

“Hm.” If Tsukasa strains, he could hear snippets of their argument from a few buildings away. He thought that the village girl means well, but she could be really unreasonable sometimes. If he could forgive Hyouga (well. Publicly, at least), then she should be able to as well.

Regardless, he’s not exactly making himself useful by just standing there, so he turns around and makes for the storage tents. He’s wondering if Senku had a list to give him, but then figures that if he did it would already by in his hand by now. His hand, which somehow seems worse every time it got within his field of vision.

Tsukasa sighs, and enters the tent. Save for the bags of food and material, it’s completely empty. He listens for a second, because even though his hearing isn’t even close to Ukyo’s, it’s good enough that he could easily hear anyone nearby. There was nobody there, in the tent or in its immediate vicinity. He allows himself to look at his right arm for the first time since that meeting.

He recalls one time, around a year and a half after his training started, while he was smashing boulders in the forest since he didn’t want to lose money on weights. He had just finished a set with the largest one without breaking a sweat. So he tried something a bit different, and tested his grip strength instead. Tsukasa first picked up a pebble, and within seconds rough power spilled through his fingers. He went up from there, and before he knew it, was crushing the largest boulder between his arms. It had shattered and crumbled around him, splintering in so many directions at once that no piece of it had been any larger than his fist. It was a great achievement at the time.

He recalls again, a similar image, as he smashed the statues in a similar fashion. The rock crumbling between his fingers instead of his arms, a name on the tip of his tongue but not daring to escape his lips, and the same crumbling lines that had occurred during that time in training. He didn’t like crushing the statues much after that, but he’d rather not have the blank stares from the old world intact enough to follow him around their false paradise.

But now, looking at his arm, he wonders if this was the universe’s sick way of telling him that karma was a thing.

Because the scars on his arm were in the exact same shape. The splintering of scar paths like dead trees, the dark patches resembling the bruising he got from that man on the beach, the veins of red that Tsukasa checks a few times to ensure that it isn’t actually his blood trickling around his muscles.

He takes a deep breath, only slightly shuddering at the sight, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen his body in tatters before, but he didn’t expect to see it again when he was this strong. _I’m going soft,_ he thinks to himself as he picks up some bags, making sure that the position wouldn’t do any harm to the contents. Maybe if Minami insisted — publicly, of course, since maintaining an image was important to maintaining respect — that he cover it up, he could kill a nearby animal and use its hide as a wrap. But if she doesn’t say anything, then Tsukasa would leave it be. No matter what his body says to the contrary, nobody would know that having Ryusui around is affecting him this much. 

He brings the bags to the ship, barely feeling the weight, while the villagers passing him very non-discreetly gasp at the sight of his arm. Tsukasa may not be a leader anymore, but he refuses to be seen as weak in his new position as a subordinate just because fate decided that it hasn’t messed with him enough already.

* * *

Ryusui is conflicted. 

He isn’t, like, _against_ this newly-revived guy. He seemed pretty cool, and pretty, and strong, and darn it if the term ‘beefcake’ didn’t pop into his mind every time he caught a glimpse of Tsukasa around the village. And it wasn’t hard to catch a glimpse of him, the guy was freakin’ _tall_.

But he’s never left much of any kind of marking on people before, much less a scary-looking scar that covered the entirety of someone’s arm. 

He should apologize. Well, he did apologize already, but Tsukasa had just glared in response, and Ryusui may be pretty carefree with his flirting and friend-making ( _very_ carefree), but he does respect people’s limits. Maybe the guy just didn’t want to be around him, and he could respect that. 

That being said, Ryusui has his own limits too, and maintaining his distance was kind of difficult when Tsukasa is currently fighting Matsukaze in the engine room. He heard a rumour somewhere that Matsukaze wanted to learn to fight in close quarters?? Anyways, it meant that Ryusui’s darling ship was in danger, and he wasn’t going to put poor Percy in any danger. 

And he was a brave captain of the seven seas, for heck’s sake! He could go to tell off a few stupidly-powerful people without trembling, because he wasn’t a wimp. But just in case, Ryusui lets Ginrou go with him when he mentioned how he wanted Matsukaze to do more chores for him. At least Matsukaze wouldn’t dare hurt anyone while in the presence of his ‘lord’. 

“Hey, you know that there’s a dedicated deck space for the sake of fighting, right?” Ryusui enters the room, first scanning the pipes to see if anything was off (nothing, thankfully, though he’d need to do some secondary assessments later), then looking at the state that his crewmates are in. “Woah Matsukaze, you should get some rest,” he says.

It’s true. Tsukasa’s standing there, breath only a smidge heavier than usual (‘beefcake’, his brain very helpfully supplies), while Matsukaze is sprawled on the ground, the only sign of his vitality being his heavy, ragged breathing.

“And uh,” Ryusui continues, looking up to see Tsukasa’s glare. “Maybe don’t beat people up before we see any enemies.”

Tsukasa crosses his arms — and Ryusui was briefly distracted by the muscles that the action emphasized — leaning back against the wall while shifting his expression back into disinterest. Matsukaze shakily brings himself up enough to make eye contact with Ryusui, and Ginrou, who looks like a trapped mouse looking at a chainsaw. Ryusui almost pities him because his captain’s instincts (and also, basic logical reasoning) tell him that Senku wouldn’t go through that much trouble to revive someone who’d be a threat. Ginrou was clearly no brave captain of any sea. 

“You… misunderstand,” Matsukaze says, the exhaustion evident in his face and his voice. “I requested that the honorable Tsukasa spar with me a… a few more times.”

Ryusui lets out a low whistle, “I think that you’d be best calling it quits here.” He snaps his fingers. “Ginrou, you should help him get back to the village while I talk with Tsukasa here about my engine room.”

And because Ryusui could get pretty serious when it came to his ship, Ginrou obeys and slings Matsukaze’s arm around his shoulder. It doesn’t take long for everyone to notice Ginrou’s shaking legs though, and before they left the room Matsukaze was already doing more work than the person supporting his weight.

“We’re careful.” Tsukasa says when they were alone. “Not to damage the pipes, that is.”

“Come on, that’s no excuse and you know it.” Ryusui relaxes. He wouldn’t be killed here. Definitely not. “There’s no harm in being too careful and avoiding this room in the first place. You should go to the deck instead, since it’s all open space and any damage you do to the ropes can be easily fixed. Do you know how long it’d take to repair a busted pipe?” He laughs, hoping to liven up the mood. 

“No.”

“No?” Ryusui frowns. He didn’t take Tsukasa for an unreasonable type.

“I don’t know how long it’d take to repair your pipes.” He elaborates. He looks like he wanted to say more as his face twisted into a darker expression, but then his eyebrows furrow and his lips thin, and he doesn’t any anything more. 

“Ah. Ohh!” Ryusui laughs again. “Well, firstly, it’d take a week. Secondly, er, I don’t see what the difference is between the _designated fighting area_ and this very cramped, very important room?”

“Wood is too fragile.” Tsukasa shrugs. “All metal here.”

“Well, wood is also easier to fix. And cheaper,” at that, Tsukasa’s eyes narrow into that familiar glare, but Ryusui wasn’t backing down on this. “And if you’re really all that concerned about the ship, then just don’t go destroying it like some kinda JUMP hero.”

Tsukasa’s glare turns into confusion, and Ryusui is tempted to start explaining it to him, but he couldn’t because that would mean changing the topic. And the current topic was too important, even if Tsukasa had somehow never read manga before? He’s filing that away for another day.

“Anyways, as the captain of this ship, I’m officially restricting you from entering this room unless it’s to work. Or sleep. Or eat. Well, just anything except fighting.” He clears his throat. _Let’s try again,_ he thinks. “I officially prohibit you from fighting in this room.”

“Hmm. So you own this ship now, huh?” If it was possible, Tsukasa’s words would’ve been dripping with poison.

“Nope! The Perseus belongs to all of us! Including you,” He snaps his fingers in Tsukasa’s direction. “Which means that you should also be concerned about her well-being.”

Tsukasa was silent. Did Ryusui say something wrong? Suddenly, he remembered that the fate markings sometimes reflected a future wound from the person who gave it. Maybe Tsukasa shatters every bone in his arm from the sheer force of which he kills Ryusui. Alright, he’ll admit that he was a bit scared now, though he knows better than to show it to a pro wrestler.

Tsukasa opens his mouth. Then closes it. Then opens it again. “What’s your opinion on money?” He asks.

 _Huh. Sudden, but manageable. Better he throws an odd question than his fist._ Ryusui thinks. “I think it’s great!”

“Hm.”

“That is, I think it’s a great tool! Money by itself isn’t much to scoff at, but the way it connects everyone to work together is pretty cool, right?” Ryusui elaborates. “I wasn’t awake as long as you guys were, but I think the village was able to unite together because they were able to believe in one thing — Senku — and fight against a common enemy — er, you —” he coughs. “Anyways, now that you’re no longer an enemy and not everyone sees the value of science quite as much as the first few people did, we need a new form of motivation.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa repeats, but with less killer intent behind it. He tilts his head, lost in though, and Ryusui takes it as an invitation to continue.

“And, it’s the duty of the rich to distribute wealth, which means that I can accumulate as much as I want without it impacting the overall economy.” Ryusui says. “There’s no reason to hate it. We’re producing goods at an accelerating rate, and we have even the lazy bums like Yoh and Ginrou working on projects to buy some of Francois’ food…”

Tsukasa narrows his gaze again. “And how do they eat without your…”

“Dragos.”

“…without your Dragos?”

“Well then, they just have to eat the meat that’s laying around. Nobody’s going to _starve_ if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Tsukasa scoffs. “Right, because then you’d be losing your workers.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Ryusui says. “What kind of captain would I be if I left my subordinates to the wolves?” He snorts. “A horrible one, that’s what.”

Tsukasa _hmm_ s again, and Ryusui was getting a bit tired of all the vague responses that he’s receiving. 

“So, tell me more.” Ryusui says. “I’ve told you my whole philosophy on life. Isn’t it fair that you at least tell me more than just your name?” 

Tsukasa stares at him blankly. “I have a sister,” he says after a beat of silence.

“Cool.” Ryusui says, waiting for him to continue talking. He doesn’t, and the awkward silence drags out for a bit. “I’m an only child.” Ryusui adds, hoping it would serve to prompt Tsukasa to say more about himself.

“Mirai.”

“Is that her name?” 

“Yes.”

“Ohh, she’s the one that’s always hanging around Suika! It’s nice that she’s found a friend.” Ryusui thinks that he’d be better off helping Kohaku resolve her stone world legal issues with Hyouga when Tsukasa sighs, exasperated. 

“Alright,” Tsukasa says, in a more serene voice that Ryusui vaguely recognizes from when the wrestler appeared on television. “I acknowledge your leadership on the ship.”

“Perseus.”

“Your leadership on the Perseus.” He corrects. “But just because we’re going to be working together, it doesn’t mean that we have to get along. So don’t bother,” he considers something for a second, “Please.”

“Well that won’t do! That won’t do at all!” Ryusui snaps his fingers to get Tsukasa’s attention. “You’re not our sailing expert, so you wouldn’t know, but we’re all gears in one machine! If you don’t click with anyone than the whole system falls apart!”

“By that analogy, then you’re the machine. Or funding it. I’ve no need to ‘click’ with you at all.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Ryusui explains. “I may be more important than most others, but I could never do this all by myself.”

Tsukasa stares at him a bit, muttering to himself. Ryusui catches ‘be reasonable’ and not much else, but he hopes that it doesn’t involve his dead body being thrown to the sharks.

“You’re right.” Tsukasa says at last. “I’m being stubborn, and that’s my mistake.” He walks out of the room. “I’ll limit the fighting to the assigned space.”

“Great! Looking forward to getting to know you better!” Ryusui calls after him. _Hmm, for someone who looks so calm he’s really got a much shorter temper than I expected._ He thinks as Tsukasa leaves.

Ryusui’s first mission after that was to track down Mirai, because that was the only clue he has regarding his newest subordinate. 

“Hey. Mirai, was it?” He introduces himself with a signature winning smile. Mirai was adorable, no doubt, and anyone who says otherwise would be clearly blind. “I’m Ryusui, nice to meet you!”

“Hello! Are you the one that gave my brother his arm scar?” Mirai says with a glint of suspicion in her eye. “I heard that scars means you’re a bad person.”

“Aw, well, I don’t think that’s all the way true.” Ryusui sits down beside her. Suika waves and leaves, knowing that Ryusui probably wanted to have their conversation in private. _Such a sweet kid,_ he thinks, then continues, “I don’t even know Tsukasa, much less have any grudges against him. I know that gaping spear hole in his chest can look scary, but I wouldn’t do anything like that to his arm.”

“Gaping spear hole?” Mirai looks even more suspicious. “Did Tsukasa show you that?”

“Well, the guy walks around shirtless. It isn’t hard to guess.” Ryusui laughs. “Is your whole family always this suspicious?”

“I guess we are.” She looks over at Tsukasa across the field and out of earshot, taping up his knuckles as he drags in another lion to make into jerky. 

“Oh.” Ryusui breaks eye contact. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Mirai huffs. “No, you weren’t. It’s ok though, Tsukasa works hard enough to make up the difference. And he’s had to pay for my hospital too,” Her expression turns guilty.

“Hey, don’t feel bad about that.”

Mirai glares. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh.” What was Ryusui supposed to say? He hadn’t had to deal with children since he was their age, and his Boating 101 Nanami Textbook Series didn’t exactly cover sympathy. Maybe that was why Tsukasa was always so grouchy around him?

They sit in silence for a bit, then Mirai speaks up. “It’s ok. I’m not mad. But I understand why my brother doesn’t like you.”

“He doesn’t like me?” Nobody’s ever _not_ liked Ryusui before. Maybe they pretended not to in order to ‘stand out’ from the crowd, but dropped the act as soon as they realized that he values everyone equally.

“You’re surprised?” Mirai sounds equally shocked. She looks at him, a bit more careful. “Has nobody disliked you before?”

“They’ve had no reason to!” Ryusui snaps. “They love me because I love them!”

Mirai looks at him, and the corners of her mouth twist down. “I don’t think that’s very realistic.”

“You’re like. Nine.” And Ryusui doesn’t think that children are _dumb_ , because even he learned a decent amount about boating as soon as he could read, but there are some things only come from maturity and experience.

“I’m fourteen.” Mirai says, her eyes downcast. “But Senku said that my mental and physical development was slowed down because… you know. You don’t need to bring it up.”

“Oh.” And Ryusui was starting to feel like a bit of an asshole now, because he hadn’t even unlocked this particular backstory until now, and he felt like he was definitely failing whatever test this was. “Sorry.”

“I’m not like my brother,” Mirai says, ignoring Ryusui’s half-hearted apology. “I won’t hold a grudge. He told me that you’re very rich, and that you probably didn’t have to worry about anything like we did.”

“Uh.” Ryusui’s never felt bad about his wealth before. And he doesn’t start now, but he also doesn’t know what to say.

“Tsukasa has a lot of trouble opening up to people, and he would probably be happier if he started letting himself be more… what was that word that Gen used? Vulnerable.” Mirai thinks for a second. “But honestly, I don’t think that he’s the only person who needs work.”

“You’re…” Ryusui was about to say that she’s mature for her age, despite her coma, but then thinks twice and closes his mouth, because she had gone through a lot and she didn’t need him repeating it. Also, her glare was pretty scary. _Must be a family trait._ He clears his throat instead.

Mirai casts him a sideways glance. “Because you’re possibly the most selfish and one-track-minded person I’ve ever seen.”

“Those are typically good traits.”

“They’re good to a point.” Mirai scolds. “There’s limits to your, uh, Tsukasa was muttering this in his sleep in the other day.” She frowns as she thinks, tapping her palm against her forehead. “Ah, privilege.”

“My ‘privilege’ is the reason you have such a capable ship captain!” Ryusui proclaims, only a tad defensive.

“And?” 

“What do you mean, ‘And’?”

“And? Is that good enough for my brother to consider you a decent person?”

Ryusui cares for everyone, but he also isn’t able to know everyone’s deep intrinsic emotions like Gen does. “Maybe?” He settles.

Mirai sighs. “I think you should spend more time with Tsukasa. I don’t like the scars on his arm, but I think it might just be him overreacting again.”

Tsukasa? Overreacting? Ryusui’s seen a few glares, but Tsukasa’s always been the calmest person in the kingdom, always cautious and careful no matter where he is. “Huh,” is all he manages in response.

“If you hurt him, which, uh, hmm.” Mirai looks at him up and down. Normally, Ryusui would take that as flattery (he was confidant in his body, he had good reason to be), but Mirai’s gaze is judgemental. “I guess you can’t really hurt him. But don’t get him in any trouble, ‘kay? We’re close, so I can tell him to open up to you more.”

“Oh. Thanks?” Ryusui doesn’t mean it as a question. But he’s really just getting pulled along by Mirai’s whims, and sometimes the best course of action is to let the current do the navigation work.

“Maybe we can have a better conversation next time,” She stands up. “Suika!! I know you’re somewhere around here!” She runs off.

Ryusui is left there, once again by a Shishio sibling to steep in his own confusion.

The next day, they set sail. Ryusui still doesn’t know what Tsukasa’s problem with him is, since he’s been nothing but kind to him. Minami had pulled him aside the other day telling him that Tsukasa didn’t approve of ‘his type’, and Ryusui really would’ve liked her to be more specific about it. Did ‘his type’ mean bisexuals? Pretty guys? Sea captains? He couldn’t pinpoint it, and with the ocean so open and welcoming in front of him, he wasn’t all too concerned.

Minami’s going around with a recording device, but Ryusui had to wave off the interview because he needed to get the ship going in the right direction, and check the weather, and the ship condition, and a bunch of other really important stuff that he didn’t get the chance to tell Minami before she ran off.

He had just finished the initial launch, and was just about ready to relax when he hears Tsukasa give his statement to the one-person-press. _Doesn’t want blood to taint science, huh?_ So Tsukasa was one of those righteous types. But he doesn’t have an obvious bloodlust towards Yoh, who definitely was not afraid of showing off his gun at every opportunity, so why was _Ryusui_ such a target?

“Hello Ryusui.” Tsukasa approaches him. “Are you busy right now?”

“Uh, no. What?” Ryusui really wasn’t busy, though he kind of wishes he was. His talk with Mirai the day before comes back to him. “Did your sister send you?”

“She did.” Tsukasa replies. “I think she’s concerned about the state of the boat if I were to throw the captain overboard.”

Ryusui looks at him, about twenty thoughts going through his mind, with only about two prominent ones (‘damn, he looks good with the ocean light reflecting off his marble skin’ and ‘holy crap he straight up wants to kill me’), and none making it to his mouth. He stares blankly.

“I wouldn’t, because Senku would probably be affected too, and we can’t have that.” Tsukasa continues. “And Mirai said before we left that I, ah, should be more open about stuff. It would help with… expressing my feelings.” He sighs at that, exasperated.

“Like therapy?”

Tsukasa glares at him. “Consider again, but actually with your brain this time, whether I was able to afford therapy.”

“Well, you definitely _are_ more aggressive than the usual cool-headed Tsukasa.” Ryusui himself has also never gone to therapy, mostly because he’s never needed it. So he wouldn’t know how much it costed (wasn’t it covered under insurance? Or did Tsukasa not have insurance?).

“I don’t think bottling up my hatred is doing me any good,” He gestures vaguely to his arm. Ryusui winces at the sight, because yeah, it still looks pretty bad.

“You hate me?”

Tsukasa looks him over. Assesses something. “Maybe not as much as I thought.”

“We. We’ve known each other for maybe three days.” Ryusui can fall in love in that time (less, actually), but he doesn’t know how anyone could _hate_ anything in such a short timespan.

“I hated the _idea_ of you more than anything, I believe.” 

“The idea of me?” Man, Ryusui does not get these people. Was it just because they were poor? Senku’s family was middle class, and presumably, so was most of the other people in the Kingdom. Maybe he just didn’t have enough interactions outside of his social circles.

“Well, I heard rumours that you were a capitalist.” Tsukasa looks like he cut himself off. He probably wanted to say more, but stays silent.

“I guess I am? Capitalism is a better system than most.”

Tsukasa sighs again. “But from what I’ve seen, you’re — mostly — better than those of the old world. I don’t agree with you, nor your ideals, but it seems we can all be united under Senku’s science.” He takes a steadying breath, and Ryusui is reminded of a WWE match. He braces himself as Tsukasa starts speaking again. “So in the spirit of collaboration, I’m willing to get to know you better — partially for Mirai, partially for Senku, and partially… for the sake of learning more about your worldview. We can be acquaintances.”

“Wait, I thought we were already friends?” Ryusui relaxes. Alright, well, if Tsukasa was willing to put in the effort, Ryusui sees no reason not to accept his offer. He holds out him hand again. “Alright then, let’s shake on it.”

They shake hands, and nothing happens. If Ryusui looks closely enough — and he was, because now that his touch wasn’t causing spirally cracks across Tsukasa’s arm, he could focus on strong his grip was (beefcake) — he could see that the corner of Tsukasa’s mouth tilted just slightly upwards.

And as he looks at his palm later on, he wonders if there were always multiples scratches there.

* * *

“Who did you bet for?” Ryusui approaches Tsukasa after his poker game.

“Senku, obviously.” Tsukasa replies. “That is, if I did such a petty thing as betting.”

“Well, I guess there’s no way for you to play in the casino now?” Ryusui nudges his side, probably trying to rile him up. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Maybe it’s better that you don’t,” Ryusui says, turning his face back to his drink. “Kaseki is a brilliant craftsman, but the material is only so sturdy…”

And yes, Ryusui is definitely still trying to provoke Tsukasa into playing his money-hungry games. Unfortunately, this new offer was too tempting, and Tsukasa gives in. “Which table should I go to first?”

Ryusui smirks. “Follow me!” Just then, Francois calls Tsukasa for his drink.

Tsukasa accepts it with a thanks, and takes a hesitant sip. “This is good,” he says. “They really know how to do everything, huh?”

“Yup!” Ryusui snaps. “That’s why they’re my butler! I only accept the best of the best.”

“Alright,” Tsukasa takes a sip. “I can think of a compromise.”

“I didn’t realize there was an argument?” Ryusui looks confused a lot. Tsukasa doesn’t mind, and he hates to admit it, but he’s grown attached to that expression. It makes Ryusui seem more… human.

“I’ll play whatever nefarious card games you have set up over there, but I will not be wagering anything.” Tsukasa says.

“I guess there’s no problem with that. The point of the casino was to raise you guys’ spirits, so if playing the games just for the sake of it works for you, then it works for you!” Ryusui walks him over to a table where Senku and Kohaku were sitting. “Hey winning team! I got Tsukasa to join us!”

“Aw, finally caved, eh?” Kohaku teases. She’s another person who has never feared Tsukasa. Cautious, yes. Scared, no. He used to think of it as a threat, but now finds her carefree attitude to be a comfort. “Came to see what all the fuss was about?”

“Yes.” Tsukasa doesn’t know what else to say. He should probably get someone to explain the rules to him, but it’s humiliating to ask.

“So, poker, right?” Senku says. _Thank fuck,_ Tsukasa thinks. He’s very glad that Senku is always on the same wavelength as him. Senku starts explaining the rules as Kohaku interjects with a few notes of her own of what she thinks are the most important bits while she was learning the game.

“Alright, I think I’ve got it.” And he did. He didn’t want to do watch their poker game, but Chrome was loud enough that he could hear every word. It really was a cheater’s game, nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t know any tricks like Gen, nor anything underhanded like Senku. But he could use Ryusui’s forced deck shuffle to keep track of which cards everyone had during each round.

He didn’t end up winning most of the rounds, but he also didn’t lose enough to be ashamed of the result.

“Woah, dude!” Ryusui says to him afterwards as Tsukasa goes back to the bar. “You learn fast!”

“It’s pretty simple actually.” Tsukasa says. “I think the game would have been different if I was actually putting money where my chips were though.”

“Yeah?”

“Casinos are made for the house. Of course I couldn’t trust it with resources.”

“Well _yeah_ , but that’s the fun of it!” Ryusui turns to him. “What’s life without a bit of risk?”

“Hm.”

“Anyways, you’ve been downing those drinks like a madman,” Ryusui says. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Francois managed to sneak some alcohol in there.”

“That wouldn’t—”

“—No I know they wouldn’t do that.” Ryusui interrupts, waving his hands dismissively and laughing. “That’s the whole reason we’re going to good ol’ USA in the first place. Speaking of, have you ever gone there before the petrification? You know, for matches and stuff.”

“Yes. The American wrestlers aren’t that much different from the Japanese ones.” Tsukasa says.

“Really? That doesn’t sound right, what with the cultural focuses and stuff.” Ryusui moves his hands a lot, Tsukasa notes. Like now, when he lifts up a hand to rub his chin in thought. His expressiveness reminds Tsukasa of those cartoon mascots on subway ads.

“I mean in terms of challenge,” Tsukasa takes another sip, because Francois is a genius and the drink is possibly the best thing he’s ever had. He sees Ryusui in his peripheral tracking the motion of his arm. “The techniques are more refined in Japan, though Americans have more raw strength.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Ryusui says. “I’ve never done any sports, except in video games.”

“Wresting’s more of a martial art,” Tsukasa corrects. “And I could tell, your calluses are too clean.” 

“That’s because helms are smooth!” Ryusui protests. “And I lift, my callouses should be just as rough as yours.”

“No, look, see? Only the bases of your fingers are tough.” Tsukasa takes Ryusui’s hand, and points to the top of his palm. “Unless you did something like swimming, which is an exception, ball and martial arts causes other parts of your hand to form calluses.”

Ryusui looks a little flustered, probably because he was just that kind of person. Tsukasa doesn’t mean anything by the contact, and levels a glare to indicate so. Ryusui grins sheepishly. “Yeah, I swim pretty well. Got a few local records and everything.”

“That’s to be expected. And you don’t count that as a sport?” Tsukasa raises an eyebrow, retracting his hand in the process. “Competitive swimming is just about as strenuous as any other olympic sport. I’d do their sets sometimes to build anaerobic strength and RBC levels.”

“Yeah, it was pretty tiring and my main workout for a while, but I never did it seriously.” Ryusui explains. “So no, I don’t really consider myself to have done any sports.”

“Fair.”

“But again, I do lift! Well, not like _competitive_ lifting, but lifting nonetheless!” Ryusui says. “I can’t do anything here obviously, but I’m sure we’ll get a gym back soon once we have the extra space.”

“Huh. My team, we just bench each other whenever we need to.” Tsukasa says. 

“Wha— that’s not safe!” Ryusui says, tone getting fearfully close to Taiju’s. “I need all my workers intact and well if we want to arrive according to schedule.” Tsukasa doesn’t particularly like being referred to as a mere ‘worker’. When Senku says it, it has an air of collaboration. When Ryusui says it, it has an air of authority, even if Tsukasa knows that it’s not his intention.

“We’re careful,” Tsukasa shrugs. “Besides, it’s a good oblique workout when we’re the ones being lifted.”

“Well, how much do you lift then?” Ryusui looks curious now, though he’s trying his best to hide it.

Tsukasa shrugs again, “We don’t want to risk anyone getting hurt like you said, so we stopped after 3 people.”

“Three people?” Ryusui calculates it for a second. “So what, 400 or so pounds?”

“More or less. It’s not exactly comfortable though, so we don’t do that many strength workouts with benching.” Tsukasa says. “Push-ups are better for that.”

“Dang, dude!” Ryusui says, then mutters something about ‘muscles’ and ‘lift him someday’. “Now that Senku’s not giving me any more manual labour, I should start working out again so I don’t fall too far behind!”

“You don’t need to. Your physical strength won’t be needed.”

“It’s more the principle of the thing, you know. We see you guys, and your very defined muscles, and suddenly we think that we should also at least have a fraction of that strength.” Ryusui leans in conspiratorially. “Even Ginrou feels the same. He wants everyone to think that he’s jerking off at night, but we all know that he’s doing crunches. Well, he does a _few_ crunches, and then he gives up and starts snoring.”

“I’m on night watch most days,” Tsukasa says. “Is there anything else going on in the sleeping quarters that I’m unaware of?”

“No, except that Chrome snores really loudly and Senku had to make Gen earplugs because of it,” Ryusui laughs.

“Hyouga and Homura are pretty quiet. So are Kaseki and Ukyo.” Tsukasa says. “And I haven’t heard them complain about me, so I think it’s safe to assume we all rest well.”

“Isn’t it noisy outside?” Ryusui asks, looking only mildly bothered. “I mean, we try not to be _too_ much, but with you adjusting your sleeping schedules so drastically and Taiju being Taiju…”

“Senku made us earplugs as well,” Tsukasa explains. “Hyouga, Homura, and I are used to adjusting to jet lag, and Kaseki is so energetic all the time I’m not surprised that he can fall asleep so easily. Ukyo’s military, so he’s probably grateful to be getting that much time to sleep.”

“Wait, no. Hold on.” Ryusui looks at him, realization dawning on his face. “You’re sleeping fine in the same room as the guy who nearly killed you?”

“He wouldn’t try again, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Tsukasa says. “I’m certain of it.”

“How so?”

“Senku’s here.”

“Huh.” Ryusui looks down at his own cup. “That’s good enough reason. Maybe” He says after a moment of consideration.

“Yeah.” Tsukasa says. Ryusui looks a lot… softer, in this setting. Maybe it’s because Tsukasa isn’t quite as settled into his new sleeping schedule as he thought, or maybe it was just that he was opening up to the person whom he formerly thought of simply capitalist scum. “You’re not that bad, Ryusui.”

“Wha—where did that come from?” Ryusui laughs. “You sound like you’re trying to trick me into something. I know it’s not money, or sex, or another round of poker. What do you want from me?” He jokes.

Tsukasa is reminded of that conversation from so long ago. _Any man who complements another is either gay or wants something from him,_ Senku had said. Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong on either account, but that wasn’t what he was doing here.

He thinks of Mirai. She’d probably be happy that Tsukasa’s making new friends. Since her revival, she’s felt guilty about Tsukasa’s wrestling career because it was for her. But now, Tsukasa’s living out his life as if it were more normal. Petrification and murder-spree aside, of course, he’s glad to be socializing as though none of that happened.

She’d be happy if she was here. She wasn’t, of course, because Tsukasa might kill Senku himself if he put Mirai in danger, but regardless.

“Hey, falling asleep on me?” Ryusui waves his hand playfully in front of Tsukasa’s eyes, which must have glazed over in thought. “I was only joking, dude.”

“I know.” Tsukasa allows himself to smile at Ryusui. He’s learned more about him throughout the day. His mindset wasn’t unlike that of Senku’s, though clearly different in all the important ways. Tsukasa might never agree with Ryusui’s philosophy, but he can at least condone his methods. 

Ryusui looks shocked at the sudden kind expression that Tsukasa is showing him, and in that moment Tsukasa notices something.

“What happened to your wrist?” Tsukasa points. 

“What? Nothing, why?” Ryusui looks at it himself. There were deep scratches going from his fingers to his palm to his wrist, visible through the now-smeared war paint, and for some reason they look awfully familiar. “Probably just got rope burn or something,” though based on the doubt in his voice (it’s pretty obvious that Ryusui knows what rope burn looks like, and even Tsukasa could tell that it isn’t one) it’s something else. 

“Just make sure to see Senku if it starts bleeding.” Tsukasa says. “I don’t think we could spare the alcohol to disinfect it, so you’d be better off doing it soon.”

“Yeah. Uh.” Ryusui suddenly looks nervous. “Well, y’know. It’s, ah, getting pretty late.” He downs the rest of his drink. “I should be going to sleep soon. The casino’s almost emptied out anyways.” He glances over. “Yeah, it looks like Gen’s just playing a few more rounds of Old Maid against Kohaku and Senku.” 

“Yes.” Tsukasa says, as if he knows what Old Maid is. 

“Anyways, goodnight! Stay safe!” Ryusui hastily puts on his hat and heads for the sleeping quarters.

Tsukasa is left with the distinct impression that he’s seen something similar before, and then realizes that the shapes are identical to the scratch marking that Tsukasa had given him at their first meeting. Although it was larger, and long enough to extend to his wrist, Tsukasa was sure of it. And he doesn’t know what to do with this information.

He glances at his own marking again. He doesn’t want to make it a habit, but he saw it enough to know that it’s definitely changed. The scars, previously appearing like rock cracks, now resembled more like smooth pieces of loose yarn. It was much easier on the eyes, though by no means was it nice to look at. The ‘bruises’ had faded, just enough so that he no longer looks like he’d just come out of a fight. _That’s strange,_ he thinks, because the marking had its original form when he first sat down at the bar. 

He doesn’t know what to do with that information either.

* * *

Ryusui should really go to sleep. It’s late at night and they’re going to need their captain wide awake and ready to go for their first day of actual hard work and he should’ve been dozing off a good solid while ago.

But he couldn’t stop staring at the newly-formed (or developed? Ryusui wasn’t quite sure yet) scars on his wrist. He barely had any markings on him, even people like Francois and Senku only leaving faint impressions in his skin.

He never found any problems with that — it wasn’t rare for people to not be impacted by those around them, and it wasn’t surprising that Ryusui (who’d known his life direction when he was two months old) would have such clear skin.

Besides, all those colours might clash. He’s not too fashion-savvy (Francois took care of his wardrobe for him, and what an expansive closet it was), but he couldn’t imagine having to match to the colours that were permanently etched onto one’s skin.

 _Well_ He looks down at his own hand. _At least the scratches are mostly colourless._

But that was beside the point. Senku left a small tattoo of a boat on the inside of Ryusui’s other elbow, the exact shape of the Perseus. That made sense, and was small enough and close enough to Ryusui’s dream (it was his dream, to be specific) that he didn’t think it came as any surprise.

But a scar? 

It’s not much of a scar though. It originally reminded him of the scratches that his exotic cats left on his skin when he had them. Though now that they were deeper red and left a deeper impression, he thought they resembled more like scratches left by a tiger. _Or a lion,_ his brain very unhelpfully supplies.

No, it makes sense, Ryusui thinks as he turns over in his bunk. Tsukasa was a very lion-like kind of person. So was Mirai, really. Must be a family thing. And come to think about it, he totally forgot to give Mirai a handshake, who knows what mark she would’ve left on him, if her older brother’s was bothering him this much?

What was really bothering him was the fact that the marking was _growing._ That rarely happens. For scars, at least. It wasn’t unheard of for tattoos to fade as friends drifted further apart, or brighten as they became closer.

Senku had given a lecture on it once, when they were building the Perseus and someone asked about the growing yellow roses marking on his wrist. He explained that the markings changed according to the current relationship between the two people, and that ‘fate’ wasn’t really a part of it at all, despite common belief. His friendship with the person who gave him that mark started rocky, so the flowers were wilted and dull. But now, they’re bright enough to compare to the sun, or the two other flower wreaths on his wrist.

Seeing Senku’s flowers, no matter how saturated and mismatched the colours are, they still somehow just _work_ next to each other, and on their owner’s skin. Ryusui really wasn’t jealous at all (he was). He was happy with the small Perseus on his wrist and his family logo on his back (from Francois) and the lion scratches on his wrist.

He didn’t need the gaudy colours, but he wanted them. He wanted them so very badly. 

But didn’t those come only to close friends and lovers? Ryusui could never do that, to just pick one or two people. He wants everyone, and there just isn’t enough space on his skin if he allowed every person he meets to make such a large impact in his life.

Well, maybe he was slightly closer to the crew than to the villagers. That much was obvious. And Tsukasa was really fun to talk to when he wasn’t being vague and confusing. Really fun to talk to.

Not to mention those _muscles_ , because dang it if those weren’t the nicest muscles Ryusui’s ever seen. He’s going to have to be extra careful the next day whenever Tsukasa’s manning the sails or killing nearby sharks for food. If he wasn’t careful, he could get distracted, and that would probably make Senku really annoyed and they’d be late for the corn and then all of a sudden Rysuui’s a horrible captain and — 

Yeah, he should get to sleep.

And yet, here he was, very much awake, looking at the scar that — were his eyes playing tricks on him? Or was is actually slowly making its way up his forearm?

Huh. That’s new. It doesn’t even tingle. He contemplates this a bit further before drowsiness overtakes him and he’s falling asleep, dreaming of clear blue skies and dark flowing hair.

When he wakes up, he thinks that something is off. The weather’s going to get bad soon. Ryusui brushes his teeth using Senku’s stone-age toothpaste and grabs some bread from storage and contemplates the necessity of a leather glove before going on deck. He ends up wearing the gloves.

“Storm ahead!” Ryusui announces. “It’ll be a pretty light one, but that just means we’ll be really heckin’ embarrassed if we end up dying to it!”

The crew immediately gets into action, and Ryusui is really glad that Tsukasa is still asleep, because he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to see the full brunt of Tsukasa’s strength (he’s been avoiding the training sessions until now, and he’s not planning on starting soon, because he has a nagging suspicion that he might actually faint).

The storm goes by, and by the time they’ve passed through it Ryusui’s ears are ringing from Ginrou’s whining and his throat is course from all the shouting. 

But they’re through, and he gives Senku a high-five. Both are drenched, from a combination of sweat and rain, with windblown hair and exhaustion-flushed cheeks. Ryusui goes to clean himself up in a washroom while Senku just runs a piece of cotton cloth through his hair.

And Ryusui is so glad that he’s cleaned up by the time Tsukasa gets on deck, because Ryusui had a reputation, dang it, and he can’t really be the prettiest one on the boat while Tsukasa was there. At the very least, he can maintain the impression of being a close second.

“Did you guys all sleep through that thunderstorm?” Ryusui asks, sitting down with Tsukasa as he has some soup.

“I told you,” Tsukasa shrugs, “heavy sleeper.” Ryusui notices that Tsukasa glances at his gloves, but doesn’t say anything. _Thank goodness for that,_ he thinks.

“Ah. Well, you didn’t miss much. It was a relatively small storm, and it’s a warm day today so we’re not having too much difficulty drying off.” Ryusui, admittedly, is still patting the dampness from his hair using a piece of cloth, but for the most part he was dryer than most of the others.

Tsukasa chuckles. Ryusui always finds himself a bit off-balance whenever he hears Tsukasa sounding so happy, probably because it was a rare occurrence. “I’ll bet you miss hairdryers.”

“Well of course!” Ryusui says indignantly. “Why, don’t you?”

“Not really.”

“With all that hair?” Ryusui gestures vaguely. He didn’t want to risk touching it — he’s seen what happens to people who pet a lion without permission. 

“It dries fine on its own.”

“And it doesn’t stick up?” Ryusui further inspects Tsukasa’s hair. “Come to think of it, it doesn’t even look like you have a bedhead!”

“It just doesn’t do that.”

“Woah, I’m so jealous.” Ryusui’s hair was maybe a quarter of Tsukasa’s hair length. And yet he was stuck with the disobedient locks. “Even Senku’s got it all figured out. It all sticks up so much that I can’t tell what’s intended and what isn’t.”

“Yeah,” Tsukasa nods before finishing off his soup. “What do you need my team to do today?”

Ryusui sniffs the air. Closes his eyes to check the wind direction. Looks over at the GPS, and feels for pressure. Tsukasa looks at him expectantly. “Nothing yet! Skies are clear for a while, though there could be some tough currents ahead. Just have at least one person available at all times today when you’re training.”

“Alright,” Tsukasa says, and gets up. “And don’t worry, you’re surviving just fine without the dryer.”

“Ha! I know that,” Ryusui smiles and waves Tsukasa off. Now to resume his captain-ly duties, which mostly involved standing around and checking their course every ten minutes now that there were no more impending weather troubles.

Things were going great. He’s had to readjust their course a few times, but the currents were calm in this spot of the sea. It made sense, they were only about 5% through their journey, so the tough areas wouldn’t arrive until about a week later. Until then, he’d use this time to allow everyone to settle into a familiar routine and new sleeping schedules.

In the meantime, he’s had to get Yuzuriha to make him longer gloves, because every passing day, the scar marking that Tsukasa left stands out a little more and Ryusui doesn’t know how he’s supposed to explain it. Especially now that they’re getting along better, he doesn’t want to do anything to sabotage their friendship.

This goes on for three more days, and on day five of their ocean voyage, he has a particularly significant conversation with his friend (Tsukasa still insists they’re acquaintances, but he’s starting to say it with less conviction every time, since even he stopped believing that particular lie).

“So Mirai, right?” Ryusui says one day, when the forecast is clear again and Tsukasa just finished his post-training shower. Well, the stone-age equivalent of a shower, since nobody liked the look of Senku’s high-powered jets for risk of concussion, and instead they all just used sponge baths. “She’s like, a mini you, you know?”

Tsukasa frowns. Though throughout these past few days, Ryusui has noticed that his frowns have looked less angry and more… endeared? “No she’s not.”

“Well, you’re leaning into the whole lion gig pretty heavily, so based on that, she’s like a cub.” Ryusui explains.

“Right…?”

“Well then, she’s already pretty ferocious on her own, but she’s definitely going to grow up to be a menace,” Ryusui thinks about it for a second, then hastily adds, “I mean that in the best way possible.”

“Yeah,” Tsukasa smiles, in a soft smile that he reserves only for his sister. “She’s quite an energetic ray of sunshine.”

Ryusui makes a noise of encouragement. He’s gotten closer to Tsukasa, sure, and he’s warm enough during conversations that they’re still enjoyable, but he looks like he’s going to actually expand on a topic this time. Ryusui doesn’t want to miss this.

“She’s been like that since she was younger.” Tsukasa starts. “She’s always been tougher than me, and we were pretty sure that _she’d_ be the one protecting _me._ ”

“Yeah? She’s definitely scary enough, even without the physical strength to back it up.” Ryusui agrees. Her glare was absolutely _penetrating,_ he recalls. 

“And then the accident happened,” Tsukasa says, in an anticipatory kind of way that Ryusui takes to mean that he’s willing to talk about it, but won’t if Ryusui can’t handle anything heavy at the moment. Ryusui, being himself, doesn’t think it was too big of a deal. Ryusui nods, and Tsukasa continues.

“I saw it on the news before I got the call from the hospital.” Tsukasa leans back against the wall. There weren’t exactly ‘sitting areas’ on the ship, so they made do with smooth walls and relatively quiet corners. “It was a highway collision, so they already had a small chance of making it.”

Ryusui was expecting a sad backstory, of course, but he wasn’t expecting the raw _emotion_ in Tsukasa’s voice. He can’t think of what he could say, so he doesn’t open his mouth.

Tsukasa takes his silence as permission to continue talking. “I ran to the hospital, because I never bothered learning how to ride a bike, and now I don’t think I’ll ever have the chance to.” He huffs. “Sorry, that’s irrelevant.”

“No,” Ryusui says, though he doesn’t know how to continue his reassurance. He’s never had to do this before, hear someone have a situation tougher than loosing a few dollars at the casinos. He continues anyways, and Ryusui pays as much attention as he can without seeming like he’s prying.

“My father was already in a coma. Mirai had sustained traumatic head injuries, and she was in risk of it as well. My mother was the driver, so she died on the spot.” Tsukasa says. “They told me that since I was the only surviving member, I’d have to pick who to financially sustain.” Tsukasa’s hands clench into tight fists, emphasizing the angry dark lines on his right arm. “I hadn’t worked a day in my life before then. I was just a child, after all, I didn’t have the money. And yet I had to pick one family member’s life over the other.”

“Mmhm.” Ryusui thinks that he should’ve been there. He had the money for it since he was born. And sure, he didn’t know Tsukasa at the time, but if Senku were to ever create a time machine, then… “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help?” He doesn’t mean it as a question. But he doesn’t know what else he could have done to help.

“There’s nothing you can do now.” Tsukasa says. “Mirai had a higher chance of survival, so I fought for her. I don’t regret the decision, after seeing her face, but…” He trails off. Ryusui doesn’t have anything to say. “Don’t you ever think that, if the world wasn’t so greedy, how many people’s lives could’ve been saved?”

Ryusui continues to not say anything, because his opinion on the matter probably shouldn’t be voiced at this moment.

“If we were rich, we would’ve had the funds to save both of them. Or maybe we could’ve gotten a car that had functional airbags. Or maybe even a hospital with good-enough machines that they would’ve both recovered in a week.” Tsukasa says. “I don’t regret it now. Their pain is, regretfully, what made me what I am today, but I wonder sometimes.”

“Right. You’re strong, successful, about to save the world…” Ryusui says hesitantly. 

“I’d rather be weak and happy than strong and alone.” Tsukasa says, and Ryusui thinks for a moment that Tsukasa is probably being his most vulnerable right now. The words that he’s giving to Ryusui could be made into ammunition as easily as it is to snap his fingers. But… doesn’t that just indicate trust? He knows that Ryusui wouldn’t do anything, and doesn’t feel any issue in handing him the metaphorical gun?

“…Yeah.” Ryusui finally says. “But you’re not alone, are you? You’ve got Mirai, and you’ve got the crew, and… you’ve got me?”

“I do,” Tsukasa smiles. “Making the most of my strength is, I think, a good way to honour them,” He closes his eyes. “My parents, that is.”

“That’s a good way of thinking about it,” Ryusui says. “My mother died during labour. I don’t even know how to honour her.” And he doesn’t mean to interrupt Tsukasa’s heartfelt moment. It mostly just slipped out, not to dismiss Tsukasa’s experiences, but more out of empathy. He opens his mouth to apologize when Tsukasa puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I don’t even remember her. ‘Cause I was so young, haha,” He laughs, though it’s so fake that it probably made him seem more upset about it then he really is. “no really, I’m not trying to demean your pain at all, sorry if it—”

Tsukasa lightly slaps Ryusui’s shoulder to interrupt him. But Tsukasa really doesn’t know his strength, Ryusui thinks, because it hurt a bit more than it was probably supposed to. “Don’t say that. Nobody has lead a perfect life.”

Ryusui thinks about this as they sit in a contemplative silence. A hand on each other’s arm. Tsukasa said something that somehow never occurred to Ryusui. He obviously knew that people all have their own tough spots to work through, but he could always find (or give) a distraction through money.

But sometimes, money couldn’t solve everything. It could give someone opportunities and it could bring together a massive workforce that would’ve otherwise never happened, but money couldn’t bring people back from the dead. Ryusui didn’t have to watch his mother die while being unable to do anything about it, but he still felt the person-shaped hole in his life thereafter. He treated Francois like the older sibling that he never had, and he treated his friends like the younger siblings that he never will have. He won’t say that he tried to do anything to fill up the metaphorical hole in his heart, because his passions weren’t because of anyone else at all. But he definitely did wonder sometimes, because he could dream up a mother as much as he wants, but that doesn’t mean he could make it come true. 

Some desires just don’t come to fruition, no matter how much time and energy and money is put in. He wonders if Tsukasa’s felt this way his whole life after that accident.

“I’m sorry,” Ryusui says, heart heavier and mind a bit lighter at the same time. He means it this time, because he gets that he might never really understand what he’s apologizing for. The best he can do is be present, and offer his shoulder, and listen to his friend’s tears.

“Hm.” Tsukasa says, his usual opaque tone, yet Ryusui can tell this time that there’s more to it. Ryusui’s apology won’t make it better, but Tsukasa can tell that Ryusui is putting in the effort to support him now.

“If you want to chat again,” Ryusui starts. “And I can’t promise that I can help — unless money is involved — but I’ll… I’ll be there.” Geez, this was a hard topic. He doesn’t really know what to say. And that’s alright, because this isn’t about him. He doesn’t have to say anything in order to listen.

“Thanks,” Tsukasa says, so softly Ryusui barely catches it. “I don’t think I’ll need it, there’s no use for me to continue dwelling on the past, but… thanks.”

Ryusui doesn’t know when his hand migrated from Tsukasa’s forearm to his palm, but he squeezes anyways. “Anytime.”

Before he goes to sleep that night, his marking has already turned as dark and angry as Tsukasa’s own. He wonders if this could be a bad thing, but then reasons that there’s no way. The marking was wrong this time, because he thinks that he can carry a pleasant conversation with Mirai now, not forcing her to remember her past or accept the present, but instead supporting her through her trauma. He thinks that he might get along with Tsukasa now, even though they were doing just fine before. But also, he allows himself to think that maybe, just maybe, he and Tsukasa are officially more than acquaintances now. 

The marking _had_ to be wrong this time. Their experience together couldn’t cause mutual destruction. If anything, their friendly interactions, simply because they happened and continue happening, cause them both to grow into better, kinder people.

He sleeps peacefully that night.

* * *

Tsukasa thinks that his scar is actually bearable to look at now.

What started as jagged crumbling patches have first softened, turning into lines not unlike long strings of ramen noodles. Then the many lines spiralling down his arm have started twisting together, like pieces of string forming a larger piece of twine. The colour also lightened, turning into a dark red rather than an ugly black.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the change to his marking was probably caused by his conversations with Ryusui. 

Tsukasa had panicked right after their last one, in the peace of a private room where Minami and her camera were not. He doesn’t let anything give away his weaknesses, that’s what got everyone to think of him as so calm and cool-headed in the first place. But here he was, literally telling a mere acquaintance his whole fucking life story (though, he couldn’t really call them _just_ acquaintances now, could he?). 

Did he trust him? A spoiled capitalist brat? _Well,_ he starts thinking, _He’s a lot more than that, isn’t he?_

Not everyone can be exactly like the guy from the beach. And not every person could be like the doctors who stole a fortune to keep someone alive. Tsukasa held a grudge against them, sure, but if he really took a breath, a very deep, calming breath, then he could reason that the doctors were just doing their job, and he shouldn’t hold out his bloodlust for that. Logically speaking, they can’t keep everyone alive for cheap, because then that would mean the hospitals would be overrun and the patients would be worse off than before.

But did that mean that the rich were somehow more worthy of living? Tsukasa knows that the system has no choice but to benefit those with power — and power is synonymous with money in their old society — but that didn’t mean he should blame everyone who was born into privilege. They should use their power to help those less fortunate, but their ignorance shouldn’t be a problem unless they refuse to learn.

He should ask Ryusui about this another day, Tsukasa finds that he liked the sea captain’s opinions on both serious and non-serious topics. An unrelenting optimism, but one that was willing to listen. Like a breath of fresh air. Fresh, free, ocean air.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t been able to smell the ocean until now, with his memories of blood and alcohol tainting the lightly salty air. He inhales deeply, because they’ve been sailing for about a week, and the smell has permeated even the most closed-off areas of the ship. Tsukasa wonders what it would smell like accompanied by the wind on his face.

And oh, it’s so terribly cheesy, and Tsukasa feels like an idiotic damsel from some idiotic romance film that his mother was such a big fan of, but he can’t help it.

The ship was built on manuel labour, or at least that’s what he was told and assumes. There definitely weren’t cranes or bulldozers laying around the village, to say the least. The ship, which was in the middle of the very wide and beautiful and free ocean, was build using money as a motivator and people who served under one order.

He almost laughs at himself. Here he was, the very person who vowed to create a ‘pure’ world, free from capitalists, and now was sympathizing with them. Not agreeing, but understanding.

Maybe Mirai had a point. She always was brighter than the rest of the Shishio family put together, if not in academics at least in logical reasoning.

He should be using his strength to create justice, as a shield and a sword for the science that’ll save the world. It’s of no use to anyone as a tool of anger and bloodshed, that is, if statues could bleed.

And he feels lighter. Like racking the weight after a tough set, or getting a haircut (though Tsukasa’s gotten used to his hair — he wouldn’t be cutting it anytime soon). He feels lighter, and his fate marking turns cleaner in response. The colour of molten rubies instead of blood.

He goes to sleep at his usual dawn, light and free.

By the time he wakes up in the early afternoon, they’re working through some tough currents. He feels it, as he’s shrugging on his fur cape, and realizes that they’re on an angle.

His bunkmates realize it too, and they all go outside to help wherever they might be needed. Tsukasa makes sure to discreetly show off his spear-hole scar marking a little extra before exiting the room, because he enjoys seeing Hyouga’s expression twist into further bitterness everytime he sees how faded it’s gotten.

Tsukasa doesn’t hear rain, but he realizes as he steps outside that it’s because there were so many drops that they came down in sheets. Nobody could hear anyone standing two feet away, much less Ryusui trying to shout orders. Luckily, Senku taught them to just follow his lead in this kind of situation, so they did just that as Ryusui went inside to steer the ship against the rocky waves.

And Tsukasa, he should be working, but Kohaku’s gotten the main sail handled, and that was really the only thing that needs to be managed at the moment, and he was just a bit distracted as he remembers his thoughts from before he fell asleep.

And really, Ryusui had no right to look as fetching as he did in that moment.

Using his electric lantern to flash morse code signals to those who can understand it, which really just means the other Four Generals, and running around deck looking all capable and passionate, and was that a smile on his face? It probably was, the bastard, who else would see a deadly challenge like their current storm and _smile_ at it? He loves the ocean, he knows it well, he’s smiling because he knows that he could take any threat, no matter how difficult it seems. 

And Homura grabs Tsukasa’s arm, because he was apparently supposed to go fetch someone who had fallen overboard, and he shrugs out of his cape and dives in after him, though Gen insisted on attaching a rope to Hyouga to make sure he doesn’t get lost. He doesn’t object, but he also doesn’t feel any safer with Hyouga holding the other end, even if Gen’s keeping an eye on him.

Ginrou grumbles a bit as he’s dragged back, which thankfully means he wasn’t drowning too badly, and Tsukasa almost finds it amusing that they look just as drowned as everyone else even though they just went for a swim in the ocean.

Tsukasa, stray crewman rescued and sails managed, decides it wouldn’t hurt to stare at Ryusui some more. 

Ryusui was anything _but_ pretty at the moment. His hat had long come off, as it was making his already-horribly visibility worse, his hair and clothes were drenched, the gloves that he’s started to wear stick weirdly to his skin. He looked like a drowned rat, and Tsukasa didn’t think he was any less attractive.

He was pointing, then held up 4 fingers in front of the light. Either that meant 4 more minutes, or 4 more hours of work, but at least it seemed like they were still on course. Tsukasa only know what they taught in schools about a GPS, so he doesn’t know anything about how it operates, but it seems that their communication line was still open. Chrome and Ukyo had gone to track their position on the map, so they had the toughest part covered.

Tsukasa really had nothing to do, except admire the capabilities of their captain. And making sure that the sails were positioned correctly, but Tsukasa had been helping Kohaku work on her upper body strength more, and she’s jumping from one pole to the next, securing the knots with rope that Magma was tossing up to her. 

So Ryusui. Tsukasa kept finding his gaze tracking back to him. The rain was starting to let up, so it was probably safe to assume that they’re about to either enter the eye of the storm or leave it soon. And somehow, among the falling sheets of deafening rain, he finds himself relaxing whenever he sees their captain.

“How long?” Tsukasa mouths to Senku. Senku holds up a ‘seven’ in response, which just confuses Tsukasa even more. Senku probably either misunderstood Tsukasa or Tsukasa was misunderstanding him, but until then he would just go along with it and do whatever he could.

And yet he’s looking back to the captain again, who had just run up from checking the oil levels, his eyes burning brighter than any fuel source. As the storm calms, and the afternoon sun start to peek through the clouds, Tsukasa observes how _brilliant_ Ryusui looks now, shining with rainwater and sweat, sunshine shining down on him at just the right angle. After a solid few seconds, he turns to Senku.

“Is this the eye?”

“Nope,” Senku sighs in relief. “Ryusui said it was just a large cluster of clouds, though the winds felt nothing like it.”

“That’s good then,” Tsukasa says, and puts his cape out to dry, along with the rest of the crew. “No lightning?”

“There was a bit at the start,” Senku says. “But that was what all the magnetite is for. If I knew we’d have this much electricity, I’d have tailored the engines to be more dependant on battery power,” he mutters, “I know we packed a lot, but I don’t want to run out of oil.”

“Aww, damn, now he just jinxed it!” Gen steps on deck, wringing out his robe. “With your luck, Senku- _chan,_ that’s exactly what’s going to happen now.”

“I could start experimenting with different rubber syntheses soon, if the weather ever wants to chill the hell out. Then we might be able to construct a good-enough electric engine that we won’t get shipwrecked.” Senku responds, his hair somehow sticking back up despite its dampness.

Tsukasa starts to wring out his hair like Gen is with his clothes, when Ryusui steps out of the control room. 

“Don’t worry about that right now!” Ryusui says. “The weather’s clear as far as I can tell and after a storm like that, I’m sure we’ll have clear skies for a solid while.”

“Ryusui, you’re not leaving out your clothes to dry?” Gen asks, then his gaze turns analytical as he notices Ryusui subconsciously fidget with his gloves, which are now long enough to cover up to his mid-bicep. Gen _hmm_ s, with an interested lilt at the end. “Well, maybe you’re just used to wet clothes after being on the ocean your whole life!”

“Haha, I guess that’s it!” Ryusui says, just a bit too enthusiastically. “I might dry them over the oven later, since the air is still a bit humid.”

And Tsukasa also observes Ryusui a bit, though likely not for the same reason as Gen. After a cursory glance at the blood-red trails that were slowly sneaking their way past the limit of Ryusui’s glove, Tsukasa’s gaze wanders up to Ryusui’s eyes, which are blazing with a fire that no storm could ever put out. He was proud of the crew, likely because they stayed on course through a storm of that magnitude. If Tsukasa was in his position, he would feel the same.

That expression of fire and light stays in the front of Tsukasa’s mind as he sits at the extra-lively bar and casino that night.

He thinks about it through his three drinks (Francois really was a genius. Where did Ryusui _find_ them?), and again as Ryusui invites him to a game of blackjack. And again through the next three rounds of blackjack after that. And again as he’s on watch, as there’s nothing to do besides watch for storms and help Kaseki and Ukyo configure the GPS system (though he doesn’t need any help, if anything, they were disturbing him with their presence). And again as he sees Ryusui leave the sleeping quarters (he’s almost always the first one awake, and Tsukasa’s a bit shocked that he even knows that), and sees the morning light shine just right off his hair, and… 

_Well_ , Tsukasa thinks, lying still on his bunk while trying to fall asleep, _This could be a problem._

* * *

Ryusui was starting to get really sick and tired of his gloves. Yuzuriha had time recently to tailor them up to Ryusui’s sleeves, because the scars (and they were undoubtedly scars now) had begun creeping onto his shoulder. They were still a dark red, as though they were clotting wounds rather than fate markings.

He didn’t really think that anyone would mind, since Tsukasa’s own scars originally looked much worse, but Ryusui didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about their friendship.

Talking to Tsukasa wasn’t painful, or made Ryusui feel lesser, or anything like that. He thought it might, since Tsukasa was objectively stronger by a very wide margin, and Ryusui had gotten his level of selfishness brought back down to Earth — the height of a skyscraper rather than a satellite. But he hadn’t fundamentally changed. He desired and he fought to fulfill those wishes, just as he had been doing for his whole life. Tsukasa, after their first few meetings, had warmed up and doesn’t criticize Ryusui’s philosophies anymore. Ryusui listens to Tsukasa’s outlook on life, and he’s never done so much introspection before, though he didn’t find the experience to be negative at all.

And to top it all off, Tsukasas was such a heckin’ _beefcake_. 

Ryusui has found himself more than once spilling soup on himself whenever the Power Team was working out or doing battle training. And it was entirely the fault of Tsukasa’s muscles. Could he lift him? Yeah. Could he do it without breaking a sweat? _Dang,_ he probably could. Ryusui’s pretty glad that even without the extra manual labour involved in building a ship, he’s still partially in charge of hauling sails and steering through storms, because it meant that at least his muscles aren’t getting too wimpy. 

Anyways, he finds his favourite part of the day to be during the early afternoon, when Tsukasa has just woken up from his night-shift rest. Tsukasa would grab his breakfast while Ryusui eats his lunch, and it was all good. They’d talk about whatever, the weather, the ongoings of the crew, stories of the past, just… whatever. And Ryusui always leaves the conversation happier than when he’d come in, more motivated to work and get to America already so that they could save the world.

And Ryusui’s found himself, for the first time, not just desiring the body or personality, but the _soul_ of another person.

Tsukasa was strong, sure, that was very obvious (beefcake), but it went deeper than that. Anyone else put into his situation would have likely given up already, or allowed their hatred to take over their life. Tsukasa, on the other hand, found a way to not win every fight in the ring, but also the fight against himself. Ryusui isn’t blind, he can see the spite and anger behind Tsukasa’s eyes whenever he starts talking about the old modern society. Ryusui didn’t know what it meant for a while, but now that he knows it makes Tsukasa’s growth and self-control even more impressive. Tsukasa was the best kind of enigma, because he could be easily understood yet nobody knew him all the way through (with maybe Mirai as the exception).

Ryusui finds himself wanting to be the second exception to that rule.

And what Ryusui wants, he can fight to get, although this one has been more of a subconscious effort more than anything. They’ve started spending more of their free time together, and high-fiving after storms, and Ryusui cannot express how incredibly _attractive_ it is to see Tsukasa closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of salty ocean air, because he was in Ryusui’s environment and he was _living_ in it. 

So yeah, he wasn’t about to show everyone his angry scars that were supposed to indicate a horrible betrayal or a distrustful relationship. No, if anything, Tsukasa’s probably the first person that Ryusui could call a _best_ friend (Francois doesn’t count, they’re already holding the position of ‘best’ everything else).

And maybe this isn’t the best time to announce that the skies look clear for the rest of the day (though Ryusui’s still keeping lookout), because they’ve attached a small boat to the Perseus and they were having a vacation day. Ukyo, Senku, Chrome, and Ryusui were taking turns on the GPS, checking every 20 minutes on rotation to make sure that they hadn’t gotten run off course, and everyone else had taken turns splashing around and fishing. Kinro is teaching Hyouga how to spearfish, because he hadn’t learnt that in any of that in his dojos.

And there was Tsukasa, because the winds were unfavourable and they were travelling pretty slowly, so he felt safe to go for a swim along with Kohaku, Nikki, and Magma. Ryusui really, _really_ wanted to join them. He was asleep for that time encased in rock, but it doesn’t change the fact that he hasn’t gone swimming in thousands of years. He misses the ocean.

But he makes up some fib about needing to stay on alert as the captain, and Gen gives him a suspicious look (he’s been giving a lot of those lately), but really, it’s because there’s no way for him to go swimming with gloves on.

That didn’t stop Ryusui from enjoying the view though, because Tsukasa was always wearing that majestic-but-a-little-too-conservative cape, but now he was gloriously shirtless, and his muscles flexing so wonderfully under the sun, shining with ocean water as he smiles that amazingly enthusiastic and wide grin. The marking on his arm is turning much lighter, like liquid gems were filling the soft lines instead of the angry bruised black from their first meeting. Ryusui hates to think it, considering that it was a _scar_ , for goodness’ sake, but it almost looked… nice. Heck, it _did_ look nice. Speaking of nice, Ryusui was worried that Tsukasa’s hair would get damaged by the salt exposure, especially with how long it is, but Tsukasa doesn’t seem to give a single care in the world. Whenever he stayed still in the water, his locks would fan out around him, and Ryusui is reminded of his story about his sister wanting to become a mermaid, and oh geez, Ryusui should go back and check the weather again. The winds could turn around soon, and he would rather have everyone on the boat when that happens.

Later that day, as Ryusui is eating his bread for dinner, Tsukasa approaches him while drying his hair. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ryusui responds. “How was the water?”

“A little cold, but I got used to it fast enough.” Tsukasa says. “Also, we got a shark, so we could smoke it today or get sushi tomorrow.”

“Nice!” Ryusui pats the empty spot beside him, and Tsukasa sits down. “I’ll ask the crew and take a vote.”

“Alright,” Tsukasa nods. Ryusui’s gaze flickers down to Tsukasa’s scar a few times, because close up, it was just as bright as the yellow roses wrapped around his wrist and almost as pretty as the butterflies on his chest. “You should’ve joined us, I remember you mentioned you used to swim.”

“I still swim!” Ryusui retorts. “I never stopped!”

“Then why didn’t you join us?” Tsukasa raises an eyebrow. “You work hard enough, I’m sure the rest of the Generals wouldn’t mind giving you some time off.”

“Ah,” Ryusui waves his hand dismissively. “You know…” Tsukasa evidently does not know, because he stays silent. “Just… stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“I think it would be… for morale, uh.” Ryusui wasn’t a bad liar, but unfortunately he was bad at coming up with false explanations on the spot. “That is, nobody likes a lazy captain, you know.”

“Yes.” Tsukasa says. “Is this relevant to you not taking time off? You’re beginning to act like Senku, never relaxing.”

“Oh says you,” Ryusui smiles. “I think I’m at least three levels more relaxed than you are, with how intense and serious you are all the time.”

“And yet here we are,” Tsukasa gestures, and Ryusui thinks that’s a smirk on his face, because one corner of his mouth is higher than the other, but also he doesn’t know whether he was teasing him? Or was he smug? Ryusui’s pretty sure it’s a combination of both.

“Well, I can go swimming anytime once we get to America. Hard to check for wind directions when you’re underwater, you know.” Ryusui reasons.

“Hm.” Tsukasa grabs a piece of bread and chews thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re correct, though Senku says that it’s more likely than not that there’ll be enemies in the US.”

“Why’d he say that?”

“They have NASA headquarters,” Tsukasa smiles. “Since the light didn’t cover altitude, Senku thinks they might have launched a few small rockets or pods as soon as they heard reports of the birds, in case there was something in the air.”

“Huh.” Ryusui can’t believe he’s thinking it, but he really wouldn’t mind seeing Tsukasa in action. He only gets to see the occasional animal getting wrangled, and the non-lethal practice fights that they do on deck, so he doesn’t hate the prospect of seeing Tsukasa fight seriously. “That’s interesting, though I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Nobody’s holding their breath,” Tsukasa’s shoulders quiver in what could be a silent chuckle, or maybe just because he’s cold. “Ideally, we get the corn without anything or anyone in our way.”

“Hahah, yeah…” Ryusui mentally berates himself. Curse him and his very transparent desires. Sure, life motivations and whatnot, but he’d like to be able to control them _sometimes_. 

They sit in silence for a while, chewing on their meals and drinking the treated water that Chrome brought in for them.

“Hey,” Ryusui suddenly remembers something. “Do you think Gen’s been acting weird lately?”

“No. Why?” Tsukasa asks. 

“Well, I don’t know, like does he stare for no reason at all? Or hum in that weird contemplative way that he’s never done before? And the such,” Ryusui explains. “I was thinking of asking him about it later today, but I thought I’d check if I’m just imagining things.”

“Well,” Tsukasa pauses to think. “From what I know of Gen, if he was acting strangely, you would never know. And if your instincts are telling you to ask him about it, then that was probably his intention in the first place.”

Ryusui then briefly wonders why Gen couldn’t just straight out ask him, but then realizes that he would’ve probably tried to (badly) lie his way out or dismiss him. After it’s been sitting in the back of his mind for the past few days, Ryusui thinks that he’d probably be more comfortable with telling Gen about the gloves — Ryusui wasn’t stupid, he knows it’s about the gloves — then continue having Gen gaze at him suspiciously. And he knows that he’s falling for the mentalist’s trap, but what can he do?

“Yeah, I’ll go see him later then.” Ryusui sighs, finishing off the last bits of bread. 

“Have fun,” Tsukasa says, and Ryusui laughs as he leaves the room.

It’s not hard to find Gen, probably because Gen could already tell where Ryusui would go next, and was already waiting for him in the control room.

“Hey Ryusui! You know what I just realized? I’m the only General who isn’t in charge of navigation at all!” Gen leans against the wall. “I was hoping you’d show me the ropes!”

 _Oh, so maybe it wasn’t about the gloves,_ Ryusui thinks. He turns to Gen. “Sure! I’m sure Senku’s already given you some explanation but to summarize, we just link up the phone to Ishigami Village and sort of manually replicate the GPS using that signal. It’s not amazing, and we have to keep checking the signal a lot because the system can’t update automatically, but it works.”

“Ooh, alright,” Gen positions himself in front of the control boards. “So which switches do I flip for that?”

“Well, it’s really not as complicated as Ukyo’s radar system…” Ryusui starts explaining, and Gen listens. He keeps going for a while, calling Ruri whenever the wind-up toy Senku built in place of an alarm goes off. Gen is very patient, and picks things up very quickly. Soon, maybe they’ll be able to have all Five Generals operating the GPS system, which should help lift the load off Senku and Chrome, who were experimenting with some science stuff that they wanted to have by the time they reach America.

He takes off his gloves halfway through his explanation of the schedule, because he doesn’t like having them on too long if he was alone since they made his hands clammy. Ryusui was just plotting down where Gen could fit in — cycling through people every 20 minutes, unless there was a weather emergency, which then it would only be Ryusui in the operating room — when Gen makes an interested sound.

“Ryusui, that’s an interesting fate marking you have there!” Gen says, leaning in. 

_Dang, that was his plan all along, wasn’t it?_ Ryusui realizes. “I, uh, yeah.”

“Whose is it?” Gen asks innocently. Well, maybe he just didn’t know, since he was probably busy making sure that Hyouga and Homura really were on their side, and didn’t really have time to listen to gossip.

“It’s Tsukasa’s,” Ryusui says, hesitant. 

“Hmm!” He leans in, “Can I have a closer look?”

“Uh, sure,” Ryusui says, because Gen was already in his personal space (although Ryusui doesn’t have much of a grasp on the concept).

“Wow,” Gen says, stressing the syllables. “What stands out to me,” he places a finger on one of the red lines, “is that I can’t tell whether this is a scar or a regular marking.”

“What? Oh,” come to think of it, Ryusui wasn’t entirely sure either. It didn’t have an obvious injury associated with it, like the spear hole in Tsukasa’s chest or the light scrape on Gen’s (come to think of it, there were a relatively high number of stabbings that Ryusui missed). But it wasn’t colourful either, like Senku’s flowers or Tsukasa’s butterflies. It was just. There. “I guess I’ve never thought of that.” If Gen could be convinced that it was a regular marking, then Ryusui wouldn’t have any more reason to wear the gloves in front of anyone else either.

“If it were a few shades darker, I’d think it was dried blood or something, but it’s a bit too bright for that, wouldn’t you say?” Gen asks.

“Yeah.” Ryusui nods. It was true, what started as a lightly pink scratch had turned into something darker, to the point of nearly becoming black, but it was fading back again into the lighter red shades, only too saturated to be blood.

“And… hmm, did I see something like this before?” Gen pauses to think. “Sheesh, everyone has so many tattoos that it’s so very easy to forget where they’re all placed.”

“Tsukasa.”

“Hmm?”

“Tsukasa… has something similar on his arm.” Ryusui says, because yeah, he kind of did. He doesn’t know why it didn’t entirely occur to him until now, probably because the memory of Tsukasa’s crumbling marking had ingrained itself into Ryusui’s mental image of it, even though he knows that it really isn’t what it looks like anymore. Huh. This might be the first time since they’ve met that their markings looked similar. Before, Tsukasa’s was too… intense, and Ryusui’s, not enough. But if Ryusui looks at it carefully enough, it’s almost the same shade as Tsukasa’s ruby-red lines.

“Right!” Gen claps his hands once. “I get it now! It’s like those red strings of destiny that you find in books.”

Ryusui blanches. _Red strings of destiny?_

“Oh, sorry Ryusui! I’ve gotta go, Senku’s calling me!” He sighs exasperatedly. “I guess there’s more manual labour for me to do…” Ryusui doesn’t even have the time to check that Gen was lying or not, because he’s too caught up in the possibility of what his fate marking represents.

He finishes up the rest of his time on duty in a daze, grateful that it’s evening at this point, and figures nobody would get too concerned if he headed to his bunk right afterwards. He forgets to put his gloves back on.

 _Red string of destiny?_ Well, sure, Tsukasa gave Ryusui insight into a world that he’s had never wanted to know before he realized how how severe it could be, and he finds himself a bit more conscientious and sympathetic because of it. That by enough was a pretty good reason to consider their meeting ‘destiny’, not that there was such a thing (Senku had made it very clear what the actual implications of the marking were, despite common belief). Ryusui kind of stopped paying attention at some point, because they were working on the Perseus plans at the same time, and _how_ did Senku expect him to focus on that when his dream boat blueprints were right in front of him? Anyways. There was no such thing as a ‘red string of destiny’. It was fiction, like time travel, or something like that. 

Besides, didn’t that red string usually indicate, like, a romantic relationship?

Ryusui wasn’t unfamiliar (obviously), and he was serious in every relationship he was in, but it’s never worked out because the person Ryusui was dating was always valued just as much as anyone else who loved him.

Did he feel that way about Tsukasa? Ryusui’s always known that he has at least some desire for everyone, because he has a desire for every _thing_ as well. And whatever he thinks of Tsukasa can be applied to that ‘loving everyone’ category too, just in different ways. 

Like how Tsukasa’s really strong. Right. Well, so is Nikki, Kohaku, Magma, Kinrou, Matsukaze, Hyouga, Kirisame, Homura, that one girl from second grade who threw him over her shoulder without breaking a sweat, that one butler who picked up a whole box of rations with no effort at all, etc. Yeah. Tsukasa’s strength wasn’t anything special. But it _was_ dignified. Dignified and majestic, and despite Tsukasa’s tendency to break glass and snap knots apart, it was controlled in a more… deeper kind of way. Like a lion, but a really gentle one. A really surprisingly gentle one with enough love for his sister to fill up the universe. One that’ll realize his wrongs and learn from them. 

Hmm. This was worth looking into. Ryusui peeks down at his arm again, and sees that the colour was just getting brighter by the second, becoming a bright ruby-red. Soon enough, it could become a light source. A small one, but still.

Did he love Tsukasa? Yeah, of course, he loves everyone, and this isn’t a surprise. But he wonders if his feelings towards Tsukasa was a little more profound than he initially thought. He doesn’t just desire _him_ , he wants to spend time with him, just chatting about inane nothings that mean nothing and everything to him at the same time. He wants to watch him teach Matsukaze modern techniques and Kohaku how to take a professional fighting stance. He wants to breathe in the ocean air with him, peaceful and quiet save for the seagulls that’ll hopefully reappear someday. 

Maybe this, then, was the kind of love that went beyond desire. 

_Well, shit._

* * *

Tsukasa isn’t very sure about what he should be doing. He’s liked some classmates before, when everything was normal and he didn’t have the stress of finances on his shoulders. But being gay was frowned upon, and even moreso when the person in question was a young Japanese boy and still scrawny. He wasn’t scrawny anymore, of course, so really he wasn’t worried about getting beaten up behind the school during lunch. 

But then the whole incident happened, and it’s not like Tsukasa had any time to focus on something as trivial as romance when he was earning a living for two. People had prepositioned, but Tsukasa had no interest nor time to invest in them, so he hadn’t accepted even one person.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel a need to do anything about this, at least not at the moment. He was happy with their friendship, and he was happy spending time with Ryusui whenever they weren’t occupied with more pressing matters.

He could relax, and bask in his emotions. It was nice, and sure, he wonders more often then not if the bunk beds could fit two, or how it would feel to kiss someone. Was it really as good as Minami always describes? Was Yuzuriha and Taiju’s endless and indiscreet pining meant to be something that happens in every relationship?

Well, regardless, Tsukasa was content with his current situation. He didn’t think that Ryusui would even mind a peck on the cheek or an arm around his shoulder as long as Tsukasa didn’t bring any attention to it, because Ryusui was pretty friendly with everyone and it wouldn’t be anything new. He really was just fine with their easy conversation and the now-pleasant-to-the-eye scar going up his arm. Could it still even be considered a scar? He couldn’t tell. The separate strands had all come together by that point, forming a single, thin but noticeable path along his arm, bending with his muscles in a way that Minami says is very attractive. Minami’s words, though clearly biased, are not anything that Tsukasa exactly disagrees with. 

He traces it sometimes. It’s started glowing, just a little, and true to his new loyalty to the Kingdom of Science, he starts experimenting. It glows brighter depending on his thoughts. While it’s typically a low, ambient light, it becomes stronger whenever he has especially fond thoughts about the person who gave him the marking. It’s all very poetic, he’s sure, though he hasn’t read enough (or any) poetry to know.

It’s an interesting marvel, and the rest of the crew noticed how the ugly crumbling lines that used to scatter across his arm has changed into a cohesive, singular one, glowing a striking red without any anger behind it. If anything, it reminds Tsukasa of the fire that alights in Ryusui’s eyes whenever he’s commanding the ship through a storm, whereas in its earlier stages it had reminded him of that image in a mirror before a match. Passion instead of fury. The marking grows a little brighter, and Tsukasa smiles. 

He’s spent multiple dawns before falling asleep like this, watching the ebb and flow of the brightness of the mark, seeing how bright he could make it (very) and how dim it could get (similar to embers — dim enough, but never extinguished).

He doesn’t mind this. He doesn’t mind this at all.

Evidently, Tsukasa would also be content with being in a romantic relationship with Ryusui, but that wasn’t as important as spending time with him. It wasn’t as important as getting to see his expression when fighting a tough storm, or when there’s a particularly nice day and his shoulders are loose, and his hair is blowing in the wind, and — really. Tsukasa can enjoy those things without wishing to run his hands through aforementioned hair, or to lean his head against Ryusui’s aforementioned shoulders.

He already has so much more than he’s ever expected from life, and that was enough. Mirai was alive and well, and he got to hear her voice on the phone every day. He was working with the wonder that is science, and he’s letting go of his guilt without forgetting it. He’s more collected than before, the cool facade less of a mask and more of a reflection of his inner self at its most peaceful. Hell, he even lets himself get angry sometimes, like when Hyouga stepped just a bit too far over the line, or when Ginrou got himself in danger just a few times too many. And he doesn’t mind getting angry, because he can control it just fine. It didn’t seem like it at first, but meeting a man like Ryusui — no, meeting Ryusui _specifically_ — has caused a positive shift in Tsukasa’s life. The red line on his arm is proof of that.

And he would do anything to preserve it, so he was happy being just friends.

* * *

Ryusui was _not_ ok with this.

Technically, he was totally new at this. That didn’t happen. He gained all the experience that he’s ever needed in his whole life since he was a child. He’s dated countless faceless men and women. Well no, they were lovely, he remembers dating exactly 49 men and 63 women, though some of their faces and names did get a little blurry… Anyways. The way he loved them was a little (a lot) different from how he loves Tsukasa.

Is that even what it was? Love? It was a little more than that, Ryusui thinks, maybe something deeper than whatever a simple four-letter word could mean. 

Well, Ryusui wasn’t the General of Language Skills and Strategy (and everything else Gen was involved with), so it didn’t matter much anyways. He was no poet, and Tsukasa wouldn’t appreciate it much if he was anyways. 

So whatever, Ryusui is panicking a lot, that’s new, sort of. He’s panicked before, though if he had to categorize this it might be between ‘stock market falling’ and ‘is the crew going to accept the 40-day challenge?’ So around a six out of ten, maybe. It’s not that bad, and he could deal with it.

He almost wants to get mad at Gen for forcing his hand like this, because Ryusui was perfectly happy being clueless dam—darn it. But he couldn’t stay angry at Gen for long, he probably just did it in his own way of looking out for them, and also probably because Ryusui wasn’t very subtle.

Sure, after that tiny epiphany, he’s let his touches linger a bit too long after that, whatever. Sure, he’s told Tsukasa that his cape was still wet after a storm when it wasn’t, whatever. Sure, he’s started going to the bar instead of the casino a few more times than before, _whatever_.

Well, what else was Ryusui supposed to do? He didn’t have the mental diligence that Senku or Gen had — mostly just intuition, and that didn’t really work when Ryusui himself has no experience in the thing that he was intuition-ing in. That wasn’t a word, but it’s ok, because he’s not exactly saying any of this stuff out loud.

He figures a good second step would be to ask Tsukasa out. What was stopping him? That was his _modus operandi_ (he’d learned that one from Gen), to desire and to achieve. 

But could he just _achieve_ a person? He did in the past, but he’s already established that this time is a little more complicated. Ryusui knows how to flirt, he’s been doing it forever, but how would Tsukasa pick up on subtle hints?

Tsukasa was not a subtle person. So Ryusui doesn’t know how to approach a guy like that. He should just… go. And tell him. That he wouldn’t mind a smooch.

 _Yikes, it’s obviously late._ Ryusui thinks. They haven’t gotten properly functioning clocks yet, but they found out pretty early on that Senku could count seconds in his sleep (unsurprising) even if they didn’t really need that now that they could count by days instead. Anyways, Ryusui had been awake late more nights than he could remember ever since that conversation with Gen, and it’s fine, because they gave an hour’s grace period for those who have to sleep in. Ryusui never thought he’d end up one of the sleep-in people, but what could he do.

And the days were too busy, they had long adjusted to the demanding schedule of their 40-day-plan, but that didn’t diminish the amount of work to be done each day. Senku hadn’t made a weather device that works better than Ryusui's intuition yet, so he was also on weather duty. 

So he only had time at night, because his free time was willingly and enthusiastically spent with Tsukasa (with the lingering touches and the lingering stares and the lingering laughs that blend into the sound of waves), and his work time was spent, well, working.

And here he was, Day 29 of their expedition successfully completed, and Ryusui is laying in his bunk, very much awake, listening to the snores from some and the muffled sleeptalking from others. It's late, and he still doesn’t know what to do about his little deep profound emotional thing that he’s got going on for Tsukasa.

He could leave it alone, but then it might fester into something distasteful. Ryusui has been with partners before, he knows how nasty jealousy is (though he's never experienced it personally), and he doesn’t want to start feeling it in copious amounts as it builds up overtime. People like Taiju or Yuzuriha don’t have any problems with that, but Ryusui was greedy, and he desired, and he knew it’s possible for him to become something that wasn’t quite as pure as their pining.

Yes, Ryusui knows that he’s the type of person to let things fester. It makes sense, because he could achieve any reasonable thing, though he thinks that being able to date a person as wonderful (and beefcake-y) and majestic as Tsukasa might not be a reasonable request.

But Ryusui also knows that he’s attractive, and friendly, and lovable, and capable of maintaining easy, comfortable conversations with Tsukasa, and he sees no reason that he’d be rejected.

But again, it is _Tsukasa_.

Ryusui had wondered briefly whether Senku and Tsukasa were a thing, based on their mutual dedication to each other, but then realizes that Senku would dedicate himself to anyone just as much as he did to Tsukasa’s revival, and he’s gathered from Tsukasa that he thinks of Senku as a worthy leader, and nothing more. So he’s read him wrong before. Ryusui has been wrong about a lot of things, he’s found out recently. For some, maybe not _entirely_ wrong, but at least mostly wrong. 

All the more reason why he shouldn’t let this… thing… fester. It’s already unlike Ryusui to doubt himself, because that's a horrible trait in a captain, and who knows what else it’ll do if he lets it sit? Oh, what if they reach America and there are enemies like Senku predicted, and they capture or kill Tsukasa and Ryusui’s stuck letting this thing fester for the rest of his life with no way to ever get closure?? 

That would, in the cleanest terms that Ryusui can think of, be very terribly shitty. 

And Tsukasa deserves to know, right? He probably thinks of Ryusui’s lingering touches (and lingering gazes and etc. etc.) as just him being friendly. What if he was actually disgusted by the prospect of Ryusui being sort of very incredibly in love with him? It would definitely put more context into their casual contact that Tsukasa really should have. He knows that Tsukasa probably didn’t have any problems with the fact that Ryusui was bi, because he didn’t so much as flinch at any of Ryusui’s stories about any of his past partners. Was Tsukasa gay himself? Likely, but not guaranteed, and Ryusui didn’t even know if he was Tsukasa’s type, and — nope, this self-doubt is the exact problem that he’s trying to avoid.

 _Right then,_ Ryusui resolves, at whatever late/early hour it was at night. He could tell Tsukasa about it tomorrow.

On the 30th day of the Perseus Expedition, there is a small celebration in the Francois Bar and Casino, and that’s where Ryusui prepositions Tsukasa for a date after this was all over. Tsukasa pauses a moment, then bursts into quiet but distinct laughter with the misconception that Ryusui is just joking around.

 _So that didn’t work,_ Ryusui thinks, again staying up a bit later than he needs to. It’s alright that night, because he can blame it on the party. Was he too playful? Probably. Just a consequence of not wanting to get his heart broken, he supposes. 

But.

Isn’t that a coward’s move? Ryusui would jolt up in his bunk if he wasn’t afraid of giving himself a concussion. He’s Ryusui Nanami, for goodness’ sake. He could conquer all seven seas as soon as humanity’s back up and running. Heck, he could do that even _before_ humanity's back up on its feet. He’s known that desire doesn’t come cheap, both literally and figuratively. He needs to put a bit of himself on the table, the cutting board, the guillotine, _whatever_ it is, if he wants the chance to get what he’s been wanting. And sure, he risks losing a finger or a head or a heart, but if he wasn’t prepared to lose that much, then the desire wasn’t that strong in the first place!

He resolves to do it seriously the next day. For both his pride and his continued well-being. 

“Hey Tsukasa,” Ryusui waits until early afternoon for Tsukasa to grab his breakfast, checking the skies which are thankfully clear for the foreseeable future. 

“Hello Ryusui. Is the weather good today?” Tsukasa responds.

“Yeah,” Ryusui sits down with his soup, a familiar sight, since he always made sure his GPS shift was clear for these set hours. Tsukasa sits down next to him. “What do you think? Only about ten days left, and we can finally be on solid ground again.”

“I thought you preferred the open sea,” Tsukasa asks, though his voice doesn’t rise at the end. “And aren’t you used to longer voyages from the modern age?”

“Nah, not really.” Ryusui says. “Well, no, yeah, there’s something amazing about the ocean, obviously, but it just can’t be felt fully unless you spend more time on land, you know?”

Tsukasa nods, “Like wrestling,” He had talked about it before, how he didn’t think he’d miss the ring until he was gone from it for so long.

“Yeah!” Ryusui takes a spoonful of soup, angling his arm to catch the afternoon sun. He’s stopped wearing the gloves, though Tsukasa hasn’t said anything about that yet. 

“Oh, yours is bright as well?” Tsukasa holds his up. It’s just as bright as Ryusui’s, though he doesn’t know if it’s also reflective or not. “Very fascinating for a scar, don’t you think?”

“Aw, come on, Tsukasas,” Ryusui leans in playfully. “I think we both know by now that they’re not scars anymore. Admit it, we’re very much friends now!”

“Friends,” Tsukasa smiles, cherishing the word as it rolls off his tongue. “I suppose we have been for a while now,” _but we just didn’t say anything_ is implied from his tone.

“Yeah, and whatever our friendship marking is, well, no offense, but it's definitely a lot prettier than your first marking.” Ryusui grimaces, and he turns to see Tsukasa mirroring his expression.

“I’m glad it changed,” Tsukasa holds up his arm and takes off his cape.

“Wha—is. Is it warm outside or?” Ryusui stutters. 

“No, look,” Tsukasa points to his line. “Mine goes all the way across, ending at the left side of my chest.” There’s also a faint outline where it ends, in a vague shape that Ryusui doesn’t recognize until he leans in. It was the shape of a heart, anatomically, and it pulses with a rhythm that resembles a heartbeat. “Is yours similar?”

“Uh,” Ryusui doesn’t usually remember to check. He hasn’t looked past his bicep for the last few weeks, and it somehow never occurred to him that the tattoo might continue past his arm. “I guess I can,” he lifts his shirt, and he knows that he’s not anywhere near as jacked as Tsukasas is, but he doesn’t care too much either way — it was a bit unrealistic to expect someone as busy as Ryusui to find time to do weighted push ups. “Huh, I guess it is.” He also saw the line, dipping a bit around the collarbone as though following the general path of his veins, and outlining his heart in a thin but noticeable pulsing line. It was currently not pulsating at a resting heart rate, but neither was Tsukasa’s.

“So,” Tsukasa says. “Yours also brightens and dims.” He leans in, and Ryusui’s heart outline starts pulsating faster. “Then would it be safe to assume it operates by the same logic as mine?”

“I like you,” Ryusui blurts, because Tsukasa is so close and his hair looks so soft and his fate marking, so bright it could compete with the sun, and it's just too hard to not say anything. 

Tsukasa chuckles softly, “You used that joke already, last night.”

“No, I,” Ryusui takes a deep breath. “I didn’t realize how deep a desire could be until I became your friend.” Tsukasa doesn’t respond, but his tattoo brightens. He sits and listens attentively. Ryusui continues, “I didn’t realize I could love someone for more than what I observe. It’s not just your body, or your personality. It’s…your everything, I think, that I want.”

Tsukasa continues staring, and his face starts to turn a similar shade as his marking. 

“Well say _something_ ,” Ryusui says. The fact that Tsukasa wasn't snapping his neck or running away was already about 6 fears that won’t come to pass, so Ryusui was now just preparing for the other 11. 

“You…” Tsukasa starts. He closes his mouth. Opens it again. Closes it again, and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I think you’re pretty cool.”

Ryusui would have fallen over with laughter if he hadn’t been sitting down. “I practically spill my—”

“No, sorry,” Tsukasa interrupts, and he averts his eyes. “I meant to say, that I think.” He coughs. “I’ve realized recently that I’m a… very angry person. I have a short temper, and frankly? I do a terrible job of hiding it. I’ve killed people before and I was willing to continue doing so for my own stupidly idealistic idea of the world.” He continues.

Ryusui doesn’t say anything. He wants to let Tsukasa finish talking.

“But I don’t care about any of that now. Not that I’ve forgotten, or I’m willing to let it happen again, but I think… I can find a way to grow from it,” he glances back at Ryusui. “And that’s because I met you. You’re living proof people born into a shitty system don’t have to turn out just as shitty, and I’ve been able to be a little more… controlled in my anger because of it. I’m very grateful for that.”

 _Oh no,_ Ryusui thinks. _This isn’t some kind of honey-and-hatchet thing, right? He can’t just say all of that kind and heartfelt stuff and then friendzone me, can he?_

“It won’t be easy if you still want to… date. Me.” Tsukasa clears his throat, his ears now the same shade as his face and the streak on his arm. “I might still lose it sometimes. I could be difficult to deal with. I’m no good at words, and I don’t know if I can offer the open affection that you’re looking for just yet. But I do love you, and I’m willing to offer everything you’re willing to take.”

“That’s,” Ryusui smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m sure dating me wouldn’t be easy either. It’s no secret to anyone that I can get a bit obnoxious because of my privilege, and that’s not something I can nor want to entirely erase. I can work at it though, work on being more sympathetic, and work on being more considerate. I can’t promise you anything, but if you love me as I am now, then I don’t think you’ll have a problem loving me for the foreseeable future.” He points at their matching markings. “And I think the same will apply for you.”

They lean in, meeting in the middle, and they kiss. Their gentle pressure on each other, ebbing and flowing just as easily as every other exchange between them, turn their lips the same red that’s covering bits of the rest of their bodies.

The same red that’s brought them together, from different starting points, through different journeys, but with the same destination.

The red paths lighting up their arms, arms that are now wrapped around each others’ necks, locked in an embrace of which extends right down to their very souls. 

The red that leads to two shining outlined hearts, beating together in a sprinting tandem.

**Author's Note:**

> Their friendship and reconciliation was so fun to write that I guess I doubled the length of the fic for it? I have both no regrets and also a lot of them. 
> 
> Anyways, I love this ship so much but I don't have anything planned for them, so uh, don't expect regular RyuKasa fics from me unless I get struck by inspiration for them. Might do some fluffy domestic stuff but Idk when or if that's gonna happen lol.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://voicelesswaves.tumblr.com/)


End file.
